The Unintentional Visitors
by WhoIsThisDamnAuthor
Summary: Trunks and Ichigo switch stories here, entering the other's timelines. Plus, is Trunks's sword actually a zanpakuto? Complete randomness, with a background plot. A takeover from WhoIsThisGuy.
1. The First One

**_Takeover Notice:_**

 **The original Unintentional Visitors is over.**

 **I have to say, this is rather sad.**

 **WhoIsThisGuy officially ended his story.**

 **He just ran out of steam. Ideas stopped popping into his head, and it was done.**

 **I requested a takeover, to which he generously agreed.**

 **As he has taken down his story from the site, I shall post the first few chapters as is, and then try and continue this story on my own.**

 **The DocX part of this site has never been more useful.**

* * *

 **The Unintentional Visitors**

 **A DBZ-Bleach crossover**

 **WhoIsThisGuy**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 : The First One**

The phone rang. It was an insistent ring, like a wake-up call. Gohan looked up from his math textbook, and shuddered. The sense of unease he was feeling was heightened by the urgent call of the receiver.

 _It's time, I guess…_

He slid his chair back, got up and slowly walked downstairs into the living room. The hemispherical shape of the house gave the ring a deep echo-like effect.

He picked it up. It was Krillin.

"Hey, Gohan! Have you felt it too?"

"Yeah. I'm scared, Krillin," he said, gripping the black plastic phone until his knuckles went white. "Do you know for sure that it's _him_?"

"I'm afraid so. Anyway, the Z-Fighters are meeting up in West City. We'll go on to Diablo Desert from there. Wear your Saiyan armour. Things will get ugly pretty soon. Come fast, and don't tell Chi-Chi," said Krillin.

Gohan sensed fear in Krillin's voice, mirroring his own. If that energy could be felt, then his father... _Don't even think about it. Father would never lose._ Slowly keeping the receiver back on its cradle, Gohan tiptoed towards his room. It would be easier to escape out of his window.

Jumping out, Gohan ran across the meadows of East District 439 to Mount Paozu, where he had hidden the Saiyan armour. In his hurry, he almost missed the spot. He backtracked and dug up a battered wooden chest, which used to contain his toys, all those years ago...

 _Not the time to reminisce,_ he reprimanded himself. Opening it, he picked up the blue garment. Saiyan armor was a technological marvel. It provided insane amounts of protection, and stretched like rubber, molding itself to anyone's body structure.

He slid it over his muscular frame, chucked his old clothes into the chest and placed it back into its hole.

He made a mental promise. _If it's Frieza out there, then I'll never rest until Father is avenged._

He concentrated, and used as little Ki as he could to propel himself upwards, to make his ascent as silent as possible. Although his house was a couple of miles away, Chi-Chi had hearing like a fox, and he did not want to get caught at this stage in the proceedings.

As soon as he was sure that he was out of earshot, he burst forth, and sped towards Capsule Corporation. Upon reaching West City, he slowed down, to descend into the large CapsuleCorp complex, when he caught sight of his allies. His friends.

 _Krillin and Yamcha, in their traditional orange gi, Tien and Chiaotzu in green, and the guy next to them…_

 _WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?_

He had spiked hair, and his widow's peak seemed sharper than ever. _Vegeta, that bastard... why is he here? Well, he must have come here after sensing that power... oh no... it seems closer than ever. I'm almost sure that it's him._

He landed, and the sight of Vegeta filled him with hatred and dread... and then, "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHAT IS THAT, VEGETA?" In the background, Krillin sniggered, but was immediately shut up by the Saiyan prince's ferocious glare.

Vegeta was dressed in deep yellow trousers, and a PINK shirt with the words 'BAD MAN' scrawled on the back.

"SHUT UP! Let's get on with it... " said Vegeta. Bulma was coming as well, it appeared, and there was no stopping her. "Move out of my way!" she shoved Yamcha aside with surprising strength, and produced her Capsule box. Pulling out a No. 11 from it, she threw it into the open space behind the fighters.

POOF! _(Forgive the lame onomatopoeic, but I have to stick to DBZ for now)_

And without further dialogue, they were off.

* * *

Frieza had just landed and was walking out of his ship with his father, marvelling at the pitiful planet that monkey called home. "So _this_ is Earth. What a horrible excuse for a planet!" yelled the half-mechanized being, hatred lacing his every word.

He shook his head. This shit heap wasn't even worth destroying.

"It's hopeless, but if this is what that Saiyan calls home, then I'll destroy every inch of it!" (cliché, really)

A sudden thud interrupted Frieza's rant. "Sorry, but there will be no destroying under my watch. Get lost, you freak." A human had appeared, as if out of nowhere. And he seemed cocky. Very cocky.

Frieza could barely believe what he'd just heard. _A mere human, actually telling me, to GET LOST?_

 _At least this one's got balls…_

"Who is that?" screamed Krillin, imaginary hair follicles on his head standing up.

"No clue," said Piccolo. I've never seen him before, but he seems angry. I don't know, but there's something about his attitude and clothes that makes me think that he's not one of the good guys."

"Nonsense! Have you not sensed his power?" said Vegeta, a grin spreading across his face. "It's mediocre; I can barely sense it apart from Frieza's. That fool's just gonna get himself killed, trying to fight someone so out of his league. Although, he might just prove to be good entertainment..."

The Saiyan Prince thoroughly enjoyed torturing the weak, after all...

(Ironic, considering he got his ass whopped by someone standing just _there..._ )

Meanwhile, Frieza was laughing at the boy's folly. "Look, Father! We have ourselves a fool! Hey human! Do you have a death wish? I mean, I'm gonna be destroying this pathetic planet anyway, there's no need to come here to serve as additional amusement."

The boy now looked angry. There was a fierce glint to his eyes. "Oh look at that, a scary face. He clearly wants to amuse me by actually trying. Sorry, boy, but I am in a bit of a hurry, so, DIE!" (all villains are so cliché...)

Smiling sadistically, Frieza raised his left index finger, sending a scythe of energy towards the boy. Frieza saw him widen his eyes before the attack hit, right on the boy's chest. He was thrown backwards, a crimson fountain spurting from his wound. He hit the barren rock on his back, bounced, and just lay there.

"HA HA HA HA HA! I really expected more from this pathetic planet, but, life's full of disappointments."

Turning his back on the boy, he raised his arm. A large ball of energy formed right above it. Red and orange hues provided it with a marbled, almost living surface.

"HOLY CRAP! He's gonna blow the planet apart!" Krillin was frantic. Their previous fight with Frieza had not gone well.

"NO TIME LEFT! We have to attack NOW!" Piccolo was almost out of his cover, when he stopped dead.

"Not... possible..."

Frieza smiled, almost to himself. Part of it was for his father, who'd rescued him, given him the mechanized body, and brought him here to exact revenge. Not like it counted for much more than that, and that was the entire acknowledgement Frieza was going to give his weakling of a father.

"Well, fun and games aside, let's get this over..."

A voice rose above the wasteland, echoing around the rocks.

"Mistake number one, never take your enemy for granted."

Frieza turned back. (Couldn't he have just not turned in the first place? Would have been a lot less cliche...)

The boy was back on his feet, with only a slight grimace to acknowledge the pain. His eyes shone with resolve. "You're just trash. I've survived much worse. This was just a tickle compared to that crazy Kenpachi's attack..."

"What the..." Frieza was stopped mid-sentence by the sudden explosion of power.

He could only stare speechlessly at the boy, who was holding his huge curved sword behind him, readying for something. In one fluid motion, he swung the sword towards the front in a sideways arc, his power level rising with every inch of motion.

"Well, well, the boy has some fight in him after all..." blustered Frieza, noting how close it was getting to his own. "Let's see what pathetic move you're gonna use next, you FOOL! Hit me with your best shot!"

"I intend to... you BITCH!" with that, the boy grunted, and sent a shock wave rushing through his sandals, crushing the rock beneath. He gripped his right bicep with his left arm, and grunted again, sending another, larger burst of power into the surroundings.

"WHO IS THAT BOY?" yelled Krillin, "His power level's crazy!"

"This isn't good..."said Piccolo, "and it's still rising, really fast," as another massive power burst shook the ground.

 _He's strong, maybe as strong as Kakarot in his Super Saiyan form..._ thought Vegeta. This was a rare moment of appreciation from the Saiyan prince, even inside his head.

Another huge concussion of power raged through the ground, and converged around the boy, sending red and black sparks playing all around him. His black robes flared, and his orange hair rose. At the climax of the moment, the boy spoke.

"BAN-KAI!"

There was a moment of silence. Followed by an immense shock wave.

Frieza was mindfucked.

"WHAT IS THIS POWER? Who are you, boy? Not even that Saiyan monkey..."

Frieza's vision blurred, then split, as if a painting had just been cut diagonally, and the pieces were sliding across each other. In one last moment of rational thought, Frieza said _not again..._ and the scene went black.

"WHAT WAS THAT! Does anyone know what that attack was?" screamed Piccolo. The rhetoric, as well as the panic in his voice, showed the level of mental stress. _This was simply not possible,_ thought Piccolo.

"H-H-H-He-He kill-killed h-h-h-him in j-j-just one sh-shot..." said an equally scared Gohan.

Vegeta, also was shocked. _This power... it's huge. Also, he managed to finish what even Kakarot in his Super Saiyan form could not. Granted that Frieza had underestimated him, but still, that's insane!_

"WHO IS THIS GUY?" yelled the Z-Fighters in unison.

" _Kurosaki Ichigo_ ," said the boy, to himself, the tails of his _Shihakusho_ rustling in the wind, his black sword resting on his shoulder, the picture of confidence. He stared at the slain Hollow-like creature in front of him.

 _Where is the hole?_ He wondered.

All the Hollows he'd fought before had holes in the most conspicuous places, even the almost human Espada. _Also, why hasn't he disappeared yet?_ The zanpaktou usually cleansed souls and sent them to Soul Society.

 _He didn't have a shred of reiatsu, yet he was threatening to blow up the entire planet? How is this possible?_

He checked his _reiatsu_ level. _It should have replenished by now…_

But it hadn't. And it suddenly realized why.

He was in a completely different place, with different rules. Living creatures had their own innate form of energy, and they looked completely weird. _Come on, he was half machine,_ thought Ichigo.

And his reiatsu had no equivalent here, which was why he was working with a limited amount. Whatever he had inside of him was all he was going to get.

 _No time to deliberate on this anymore, the bigger one's coming._

The bigger alien, or whatever he was, appeared to have gotten over his small friend's instant death, and his small brain was finally entertaining thoughts of revenge.

 _Even Jinta would have come at me faster, and I've seen smarter stones._

Ichigo readied himself, determined to save reiatsu for later battles.

"You... you BASTARD! YOU JUST KILLED MY SON!" there we go, context at last. Ichigo understood the duo's basic motive now. Someone had beaten up the son to within an inch of his life, and had failed to finish the job. _Stupid fool..._

The son had gone to his father after somehow fusing himself with a mechanized body, and convinced him to help his son.

 _Retarded, really, considering I just raped his son's ass…_

And now, they were here, threatening to destroy this 'pitiful planet', they said.

 _How can they talk so casually about destroying the planet? What about its people? Well, revenge does kind of blow things out of proportion._

 _Here we are, an alien family talking about blowing up the planet_. Ichigo was surprised at the speed at which his mind had come up with an explanation, and how quickly he had accepted it as true.

 _Well, I'm kinda used to this shit, after all…_

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

Clearly the father was as retarded as the son.

 _It would be an appalling waste of reiatsu to use Getsuga Tenshou to kill this stupid wreck of an alien..._

Ichigo sprinted right up to the raging creature, slicing him in half sideways. Tensa Zangetsu's reiatsu-honed blade cut through armour, skin, and bone alike, smoother than a hot knife through butter. The alien wreck split into two, and Ichigo stepped back.

 _He got King Cold in just one cut as well,_ thought a flabbergasted Vegeta, now sweating. He took a shuddering breath. _Calm yourself. King Cold was just a powerless wretch compared to Frieza, so it's only natural._

"Now is the time we know if the boy is on our side or not. We do not know his motives yet. Gohan, you stay back; Krillin, you too. We don't want you to die again. The rest, including you, Vegeta, come front. We need to stay together. You have all seen his power. Come here, NOW!" _Uh oh..._

Ichigo heard the bass voice scream 'NOW' and was instantly alert. Questions such as " _What is this place? Why am I the only one here? And who were the two fools?"_ were relegated to the back of his mind, as he entered the zone of maximum concentration, preparing for weirdo assault number 2.

He noticed a slight puff of dust in the direction of the voice. He ran towards it, finding three men protecting a kid and a short baldy, with another crazy guy in a pink shirt and the wackiest widow's peak standing all by himself to one side.

 _Widow's peak seems the strongest_ , mused Ichigo. Then, he noticed.

"WHY ARE YOU GREEN? AND WHAT ARE THOSE PINK ARMS? Are you an alien like those other guys? And HOW does this one have THREE eyes?" Forgetting the possibility of these aliens being hostile, Ichigo stared and stared at the completely green man in purple robes and a freaking turban, with those horrendous pink arms...

The boy seemed hysterical. All he could manage, it seemed, was to stare at Piccolo.

 _This guy seems way more harmless in person. Maybe we shouldn't talk to him. He seems mentally unstable,_ thought Piccolo, and shook his head.

Noticing Piccolo's gesture, the Z-Fighters prudently took a step back. _No need to provoke him further,_ they all thought.

All, except one retard.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU GAPING FOOL!" yelled Vegeta.

This seemed to pull the boy out of his reverie. "LOOK WHO'S TALKING! YOU'RE THE ONE WEARING THE PINK SHIRT, OLD MAN!" yelled the boy. _This isn't good..._ thought Piccolo. _We need to approach him with tact, and negotiate with him._

"I'LL CRUSH YOU, YOU MAGGOT!" screamed Vegeta, ever tactful. "I'll show you the burning wrath of the Prince of all Saiyans!" (Way to start peaceful negotiations)

"Well, challenge accepted. I'll even let you attack first, or are your old bones too slow to move before they're bashed around?" said the boy, with equal maturity.

 _This is bad,_ thought Krillin, _Vegeta's gonna get creamed. It's not too bad, though, he kinda deserves it..._

"OH NO you don't! Young man, you are DEFINITELY not fighting here. This is Capsule Corp land. Don't you think you have caused enough damage already? Do you want to add this weak man to your corpse collection?" yelled Bulma, not content with just watching. _She just had to fuel the raging fire..._ grumbled Piccolo, and facepalmed. _Can this get any worse?_

"HEY GUYS!"

There was a moment where everyone froze.

"Hey! I'm back!" the voice continued, "Nice of you to come here, but how did you know I was gonna land here?"

The Z-Fighters did a perfect double take, all together, and stared.

"FATHER!"

"GOKU!"

"YOU'RE BACK!"

 _These people are definitely CRAZY!_

Ichigo was almost at his limit.

 _One moment an old man's challenging me, and then now they're hysterical about the new wacko._ The man was dressed like a character from a play, and seemed to have come out of a steaming baseball.

 _They were probably waiting for him,_ mused Ichigo, seeing how they were surrounding him, and how the baldy and the kid (probably the newcomer's son) were crying.

"You haven't forgotten about our challenge, have you?" the old man was back, anger concealed behind a mask of scary calmness.

 _Why can't he leave me alone? I'll just beat the shit out of him, and talk to the rest later. They don't seem very fond of him, anyway._

"Sure thing, I'll take you on, but I'm definitely not going easy on you," this seemed to make him happy. _He reminds me of my stupid dad, and his violent nature..._

 _SNAP OUT OF IT! This is no time for wandering. I didn't really care, but this old man is actually pretty strong. It's gonna be hard, what with the chest wound and all..._

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAH" screamed Vegeta, powering up. _He may be stronger, but I'm not going to let some upstart kid destroy my PRIDE!_ (Jesus, another cliché) _I'll crush him. I'm definitely the strongest in the Universe. No one can ever defeat me!_

Vegeta rushed headlong towards the boy. He balled his fists, pumped Ki into them, got ready for a heavy punch, and stopped dead.

The boy had his black sword levelled, the point a millimetre away from Vegeta's forehead.

"Hand-to-hand combat? Seriously? I should have given you a larger handicap than this chest wound," smirked the boy.

Vegeta almost went Ozharu at this point.

"HOW DARE YOU!" shards of stone rose up from the ground, then disintegrated. Power swirled up in a vortex around Vegeta, pink shirt billowing with the force. The tips off his hair seemed spikier than a second earlier. Sparks rushed through them. "YOU CAN NOT INSULT THE SAIYAN PRINCE AND GET AWAY WITH IT!"

 _Holy crap! I must be on my guard. Widow's peak looks psychotic!_

"This isn't good," said Yamcha, stating the obvious.

"What the boy said decimated Vegeta's already fallen pride, and now he's really fired up. His energy level is already beyond what we saw on Namek. He's been looking for an object to vent his rage on, the boy seems an ideal target." commented Piccolo.

"What if he turns on the Earth next?" asked Krillin, sweating at the possibilities. "What do we do then?"

"Let them fight."

That voice, soothing, comforting, becalming, rang out over the Z-Fighters. "He deserves a chance to vent his anger, after being humiliated constantly in the past year, first by me, then by Frieza, and now by this boy. If he goes crazy, I'll handle him." promised Goku.

The old man's reiatsu was still climbing. When Ichigo was least expecting it, he disappeared. _Where is he?_ Ichigo felt his abdomen being crushed by an enormous force. Widow's peak had somehow teleported and punched him in the gut, speed too fast for him to catch even in Bankai.

Before the boy could recover, Vegeta rammed a heavy, power laden uppercut to his jaw. He felt the boy's jaw crack, and he was propelled upwards and back, body slowly falling backwards in the air until it reached a horizontal position.

Catching up with the boy, Vegeta delivered a massive two handed slam right into his chest, breaking two ribs and cracking another one. The boy flew downwards, expelling all the air from his chest. He hit the barren ground, creating a medium-sized crater, and bounced. He came up, and Vegeta caught him by the throat, fingers crushing the scrawny neck.

"HA HA HA!" scoffed Vegeta with and evil glint in his eyes. "Are you gonna give up now? Or should I just kill you and be done with it? I'll crush your tiny cockroach neck!"

(More insect similes? Really?)

Spittle flying from Vegeta's mouth gave the angry look a slightly insane edge.

"Who said I'd let you do that?" The hilt of the boy's sword smashed into Vegeta's back. "Let me go. I said LET ME GO!" screamed the boy, driving the hilt repeatedly, the strikes almost breaking Vegeta's back. In pain, Vegeta loosened his hold on the neck just a little. The boy slid out forcefully, raised his sword in an instant, gripped it with both, hands, and sliced downwards, energy fanning in a glittering arc.

Ichigo waited until the sword had already sliced the man's chest, and then...

"GETSUGA TENSHOU!"

The red-and-black arc of energy rammed into Vegeta's body, and exploded. He was driven into the ground with immense force. He hit a rock, and then the after effect of the attack drove him sideways and down, creating a large furrow in the ground.

Ichigo saw the man hit the ground, a resounding shock wave emanating from his sword and the remnants of reiatsu from his Getsuga Tenshou. _That should do it,_ thought Ichigo, and relaxed, the adrenalin slowly giving way to the pain. _Oh...crap!_ Ichigo felt all of the pain at once, a raging storm of nerve impulses from his chest wound, the broken ribs, the crushed jaw.

It numbed his brain, dulled his senses, forcing him down. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

 _Not now! I have so many questions!_ Questions that were probably going to remain unanswered. _Where the hell am I? Who is that guy who just challenged me? Where are the others? Chad! Inoue! Ishida! Rukia! Somebody help me!_

All of Ichigo's desperate attempts at clinging to consciousness failed, as he was too far gone already. The blackness spread inside his mind. _As black as a Hollow's hole..._ thought Ichigo, marvelling at the similarity, and then the darkness engulfed him.

To be continued...

* * *

 **This is a massive undertaking, and I think writing this one along with ARTH and Dystopia Unleashed will take quite some effort.**

 **I'm also uploading the next few chapters, without any changes. Author notes will also remain the same. Simply because they're not half bad.**

 **No offense to the previous author, honest.**

 **Reviews are most welcome.**

 **Peace out.**


	2. The Second One

**I'm back!**

 **If you thought that the story was all about Ichigo in DBZland, you couldn't be more wrong.**

 **Here's the other side, baby!**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO : THE SECOND ONE**

* * *

 _"Hey, kid!"_

 _"Where are you?"_

 _"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"_

 _"I think he's gone, 17,"_

 _"He was just here... FOUND YOU!"_

"HOLY CRAP!" Trunks awoke, sweating. He cupped his face with trembling hands, and wept silently. _These nightmares will haunt me till I kill you both,_ he sobbed. Wiping his tears on his CapsuleCorp jacket, he sat on the bed for a minute in silent contemplation. He swung his legs to the left, and stood up.

 _WAIT! WHAT THE HECK!_

Turning around, he stared at the bed. _A BED? What am I doing here? What is this place?_ The CapsuleCorp watch on his hand was malfunctioning. _Typical, which means I have made the time leap, but where have I landed?_

It seemed to be a room someone his age would have, except the posters on the wall were old, centuries old. All of the bands on the posters were gone. _I've heard Silver Rose on the TV, on RetroTunes, when I was young. Is Silver Rose... WAIT! The mission?_

Trunks remembered what he had come here for. _The time machine was supposed to land discreetly in the Southern Forest, and I... where IS the time machine? Where is it? What am I doing here?_

"ICHIGOOOOO!" a knock sounded on the door. _Crap... who is Ichigo? This must be his room, I have to hide now._ The knock sounded again, harder this time. Trunks noticed that the door was locked. _Whew... at least I'm safe..._

BOOM! "Ichigo, you lazy fool! Get your ass outta bed right now! Or do you want to be late?" shouted the crazy old man who had just kicked open the door. "Ichi..."

Kurosaki Isshin saw the purple-haired punk in his son's room, and was taken aback. "Who are you? Where's Ichigo?"

* * *

Before he knew it, Trunks found himself being held over the rim of a toilet. The old man was screaming.

"Where is my son? What have you done with him?" With growing frustration, Trunks yelled, "I don't KNOW!"

He released a bit of Ki unconsciously, as if for emphasis.

Kurosaki Isshin was propelled through the bathroom door(Jesus, another door!) and landed flat on his back, totally flabbergasted.

Trunks rose and turned to face the old man, "My bad, I haven't really learnt how to control my power yet," he said sheepishly. "Who are you? My name is Trunks. Pleased to meet you,"

"Trunks? You mean, as in THESE?" said the man, pointing towards his rear end. Trunks turned red. The old man was trying his best to control his laughter. "Yes! Now, tell me who you are! NOW!" said Trunks, pointing fiercely at the laughing man.

(A desperate attempt to change the subject)

"You tell me who you are first!" said the old man with equal ferocity. _I've never met Father, but as Mother describes him, this old man fits right into the picture,_ thought Trunks. "I have absolutely no clue how I got here. Perhaps if you could tell me something about where I am, I might be able to piece together why I'm here." he said.

"No harm in that, I suppose," replied Isshin. "You are in Karakura Town, in my house. I am Kurosaki Isshin, and Ichigo is my son. The room you were in is his bedroom. He went to bed last night, and here you are, in the morning.

 _This makes no sense whatsoever_ thought Trunks. _By some malfunction in the time machine, I seem to have replaced this Ichigo, and he seems to have been sent to where I was supposed to go... SHIT! FRIEZA!_ "Your son may be in danger!" shouted Trunks. "If he has gone where I was supposed to go..."

"KUROSAKI-KUN!"

The most beautiful voice Trunks had ever heard seemed to be coming from the street.

( _well, not the MOST beautiful of all time. One does not have time for romance when two evil Androids are killing everyone in sight)_

Trunks scrambled to the window and looked out. His heart skipped two beats, and then did the Tango. The most beautiful girl Trunks had ever seen (for reason, see above) was waving up at him. Long, dark orange hair, huge, beautiful eyes, the most dazzling smile and the figure...

 _I'm in love,_ gushed Trunks, now glowing like an M-Type star.

His heart crash-landed when he saw the guy next to her. Dark, tall, handsome... _Oh, no! She has a boyfriend!_ The world took on a rather monochrome hue. Depression struck Trunks like Gohan's hand on that fateful day.

"Is Ichigo there? Who are you?" the giant asked.

"Come in; come in Inoue-chan, Sado-kun! I'll explain!" Kurosaki Isshin called out. The two seemed relieved at the sight of the old man, and came in.

* * *

"Who are you, exactly? Why are you here?" the three gazed at Trunks, like members of the Inquisition.

"My name is Trunks," said Trunks, forcing himself not to blush this time, "I come from another time. The world in my time is destroyed, with any survivors being killed by two evil beings, called the Androids. Number 17 and his sister 18 just kill for the pleasure it gives them. They have competitions in which they massacre humans, and the one who kills more wins. They play cat-and-mouse with me all the time. I get cornered by them; they torture me to within an inch of my life, and let me go. They know that I will fight back, so it amuses them to let me try, and fail, again and again and again... It's just a game to them!"

"So, you mean, you have come from..."

"The future, yes. To avoid the Androids from destroying the past, I decided to go back in time to help the Z-Fighters defeat them."

"Who are these Z-Fighters?"

"They are elite fighters who used to make up the Earth's special Defence Force," said Trunks. "Their main fighter was a man called Goku. I've never met him, but I've heard about him from my mother. He's the strongest fighter of all time. He died of a heart virus before the Android invasion. This was the main reason the Z-Fighters lost back then, and all of them were killed. Only I'm left, probably because I was too weak to be an amusement, those bastards!" Trunks was getting really agitated. In the heat of the moment, he let some of his suppressed power level show.

"Control your reiatsu there, boy! The Hollows will be on you in a flash if you keep pumping out energy like that," Isshin warned him.

"You can sense power levels? Oops, I'll get it down, I still haven't mastered suppressing it properly yet," Trunks took a deep breath to calm himself down. Talking about the Androids always fired him up. "Anyway, I had the antidote for the heart virus, and was going to give it to Goku. The last thing I remember though is the time machine malfunctioning, and then I woke up here. Now, it appears as if this Ichigo has been transported there in my place. This is bad, the Z-Fighters are facing a serious threat, and Ichigo may be in danger!" to Trunks' surprise, no one flinched at the mention of danger. They just smiled.

"Is that all? Well, Kurosaki-kun will take care of the threat, no problem. Now, please think of a way to get him back after he finishes fighting," said the girl with immense confidence.

"Don't worry, Ichigo's strong. I'm sure he can handle himself against these Androids you mention, I'm more worried about him getting alone with the Z-Fighters. There aren't any hot-headed people in their ranks, are there?"

"Um... my dad's a very hot-headed, prideful jerk," admitted Trunks, "at least that's how my mother describes him. I've never met him. I was very young when they... killed him,"

"Just chill. Ichigo will handle it." Isshin was calm and confident. _He seems like the Goku of this age,_ thought Trunks. _They seem to believe in him._ "Well, until I can get Ichigo back, could I use this room? I won't be a bother. I have money to pay for my food..."

"Sure, kid," assured Isshin. "Just don't move stuff around, Ichigo hates people moving his stuff being rearranged."

"Thanks a lot! By the way, you haven't introduced yourselves yet. I know Isshin-san, but who are you two?"

"I'm Inoue Orihime!" said the girl, beautiful voice resonating in Trunks' ears. He was back to gazing at her, her hair, her eyes...

"I'm Sado," said the giant, "We're Ichigo's ... um... classmates,"

"Anyway, we have to go to school, so, see you!" Orihime got up to leave. _Don't leave! I love you!_ (Clearly, Trunks was inexperienced in this) The two got up to leave, and all of a sudden, this huge power showed up.

(Right on time)

* * *

 _HOLY CRAP! That's huge! (Way to state the obvious, bro...)_

Trunks scrambled to the window again, to get a better look. When he peered out, what he saw nearly threw his rationality to the wind.

The sky had a great rift in it, like it was just a cloth being cut open from the other side. It tore open with a horrendous screech, and six people walked out. Trunks jumped out of the window, flying out towards the rift.

 _Oh, these people are evil, for sure._

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques surveyed the town. _Eliminate all reiatsu sources in the town,_ Aizen-sama had commanded. _This is going to be bloody BORING! Look at the mediocre bits of reiatsu around. It's not worth an Espada's time to be fighting these fuckin' shits!_

 _This is too easy. This fucking sucks..._ he mused, running a hand through his light blue hair. _Searching for them will take longer than eliminating them, so that's worth looking forward to... wait, wait!_

 _That's not bloody fair!_ Their errand was not being made any harder by the enemy. One of them was actually heading towards them, and he seemed the weakest of them all. "I'll handle them, Grimmjow!" said Shawlong Koufang, "You guys go get the others."

"What's the hurry? I want to see each one die, it is the only bloody amusement I can get from this, this fucking errand... Let him come. We'll deal with these weak fucks one at a time," Grimmjow had a confident smile on his face, remnants of the Hollow mask smiling as well.

Trunks saw the six looking at him and smiling _that_ smile. _They are just the same as 17 and 18, minions of some creator wanting absolute power. They are evil, no doubt about it. The one with the blue hair seems to be their leader, and the others seem equal in stature. I sense resentment towards their creator in their eyes, but it still hasn't turned into open rebellion like the Androids. Maybe the creator is stronger than them. Anyway, if they want a fight, then it's a fight they'll get!_ As soon as he was within fighting range, he stopped, waiting for their move.

Grimmjow sensed the reiatsu level, comparing it with the Arrancar alongside him. _I guess even Yylfordt should be enough for this shit,_ he thought. "Yylfordt! He's yours!"

"Amuse me!"

Trunks watched the yellow-haired minion come front. "The name's Yylfordt. You don't seem so strong. Is that a zanpaktou on your back?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Trunks. "Anyway, let me warn you. You're making a big mistake,"

The yellow-haired man seemed to flare up at that.

"Huh? What was that, kid?"

"I don't think I should repeat myself,"

Yylfordt's anger was driven up another notch. "You want to be cocky, boy? You'll pay for that!" he advanced.

Trunks noticed the hole in his chest. _He seems... empty,_ he thought.

Grimmjow watched with growing fascination. _The kid's reiatsu could barely kill a fly, and he warns us?_

 _Interesting..._

* * *

Yylfordt had already reached the boy. He unsheathed his sword, and attempted a top down strike.

Trunks twisted anticlockwise, ever so slightly, letting the sword pass bare millimetres from his chest. As the blade passed down, he brought his left leg down on it, driving his heel into the flat of the blade, snapping it in two.

This had three effects. Yylfordt was virtually neutralized, he was pulled front, his head moving front, and the motion brought Trunks in perfect position for his next shot.

Flexing his right thigh muscles, Trunks moved forward and up, slamming his right fist into Yylfordt's jaw.

(same uppercut, like father like son.)

The Arrancar flew up, initial forward motion making the normally upwards-and-backwards arc totally vertical, slowly rotating. Trunks used the follow-through of the punch to pivot on his left foot, and turned away, left hand on the sword hilt, and nonchalantly placed his right hand in his pocket.

As Yylfordt started his descent, Trunks unsheathed his sword, lightly holding it in place by keeping the tip inside the sheath.

At the perfect moment, Trunks shifted his weight to his left foot, and launched a vicious backhand uppercut, the Z-Sword's blade whistling in the air. It sliced Yylfordt through the bony helmet on his head, his body giving way to the extremely sharp sword, passing through the hole in his chest, cutting cleanly all the way through.

Continuing on, Trunks sheathed his sword, the whole thing like poetry in motion. His right hand still in his pocket, he gazed into the cold, yet burning light blue eyes of his opponent. _That was pretty impressive,_ they seemed to say, _but is that all?_

 _What else can you do?_

* * *

Staring into the depths of his opponent's cold blue eyes, Trunks felt his rage being ignited, heightening his senses, tuning out the rest of the world, focusing only on him.

He'd felt this very frequently in the past, and had always struggled to control the wrath that threatened to make him destroy everything in sight.

The battle with his own anger was not one he'd always won, though.

Deep down, his Saiyan half was screaming at him, _Power up, you fool! Show this loser your true strength. Make him beg for mercy!_

 _Fine, but just this once, because he resembles the Androids,_ replied his human half.

He wanted to feel the power, to experience the ecstasy of raw energy surging through him, the confidence of being Super Saiyan, the ultimate transformation, and the pure joy he obtained from it.

It was unique, that a fighter as restrained as him would feel so, but it came from his prideful jerk of a father, so there was nothing he could do about it.

 _LET IT GO! NOW!_ his Saiyan half was completely filled with bloodlust.

He stopped suppressing his energy.

* * *

Grimmjow was now mildly interested in this boy's strange, fluctuating reiatsu, weak almost all the time, only rising during an attack...

I _t seems like he's trying to save it for later,_ he thought. "Stand back, you four," he said, gesturing at his minions, "This fight is mine. He's way out of your league. If you interfere, I won't wait for him to slice you open like Yylfordt. I'll fucking kill you myself!" The four took a few steps back, (a few hundred metres, actually) and settled down to watch their master fight.

 _Maybe he'll be a decent warm-up after all... WHAT THE FUCK?_ (is this what all losers say when shocked?)

The boy's hair, purple just a moment ago, was now golden. It stood up in large spikes, neatly towards both sides of his head. His jacket was flapping energetically, due to the rush of energy underneath. Blue sparks flashed across the flame-shaped golden aura around the young half-Saiyan.

Of course, Grimmjow did not notice all of this. He was too busy trying to fathom the boy's current reiatsu, which was way beyond anything he had ever experienced, even in Hueco Mundo.(well, ain't that obvious?)

The only change he observed, except the reiatsu jump, was the boy's eyes, which were now a piercing aquamarine hue, and appeared to be glowing with anger as they stared into his own, scaring him to the depths of his empty, Hollow soul.

They seemed battle-hardened and menacing. Even his fierce stare from moments ago seemed like it was a teddy bear's.

The wolf inside Grimmjow howled in fear, hackles rising. The boy's spiritual pressure was enormous.

 _Interesting..._ Aizen Sosuke felt it too, in the centre of Las Noches. All of Hueco Mundo was being shaken by the tremors from the sheer amount of reiatsu gathered in one place. _Interesting,_ he mused, already calculating, adding the boy into his plan, factoring in the change brought by his reiatsu. His mind quickly gave him the most suitable plan, which he loved and accepted instantly, as his course of action.

 _Very interesting, indeed..._

* * *

"ATTENTION! THE CAPTAINS OF ALL THE GOTEI 13 SQUADS ARE TO COME TO THE SQUAD 1 HEADQUARTERS NOW! I REPEAT ALL THE CAPTAINS OF THE GOTEI 13 SQUADS ARE TO COME TO THE SQUAD 1 HEADQUARTERS NOW! ATTENTION!" Kurotsuchi Nemu's voice boomed across Seireitei.

Kyoraku Shunsui was late as usual. Resting in the late afternoon sun, the 8th squad captain simply refused to move, until old man Yamamoto himself yelled through the speakers, "SHUNSUI! GET YOUR LAZY BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW! OR SHOULD I ROAST YOU WITH RYUUJIN JAKKA FIRST?"

 _Time to go,_ thought Kyoraku. "Nanao-chan! Could you pass me my hat, my dear?" A very stern-looking Nanao flung his large straw hat at his face, saying "Why do you do this? You know that it is urgent, right? Now go!"

"What, no goodbye kiss?" Kyoraku caught the hat, and disappeared before Nanao got the chance to say some choice words.

Five flash steps later, he knocked and enter Squad 1 HQ. Everyone was waiting, and most looked irritated at the delay. Only his best friend Juushiro smiled, and Kurotsuchi Mayuri just looked bored.

"My bad, old man," Kyoraku apologized.

"Never mind that. Now, to the business at hand."

Kyoraku was stunned. Even in dire situations, the old geezer always reprimanded him for his tardiness. _Something is seriously wrong, for even Yamamoto to look agitated._ He had already sensed the reason why, though.

"A large reiatsu has just appeared over Karakura Town," said Yamamoto, stating the obvious.

"Aizen," Toshiro muttered under his breath. He seemed ever more irritated now.

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!" the old man was clearly in a hurry. "It is not Aizen. Our sources in the real world have confirmed that. If it was him, our contingency plan would have been set into action, and there would have been no need for this meeting. This is different. This person's reiatsu threatens to kill off all the humans and crush all the souls in Karakura Town, if it keeps rising like it is now,"

The captains nodded. Even their reiatsu was severely limited by a seal before they came to the real world, to prevent damage to living humans and other souls in the vicinity. This reiatsu level was equivalent to at least four Captain-class together, and was still climbing.

"I have decided to send six Captains to the real world. Four will handle the reiatsu source, and the other two will assist any injured humans and souls. As of now, we have no idea of the intentions of the source, henceforth called Code 1, and we cannot act unless we ascertain whether he bodes well for Soul Society or not. Hence the precaution, that if Code 1 turns against us, the four Captains will hold him off until the humans are evacuated, and until reinforcements arrive.

"Head-Captain, if I may," spoke Ukitake, "We should send three Captains, not four, to keep our Captains as backup. I suggest that we send Vice-Captain Abarai Renji, and 11th squad 3rd seat Madarame Ikkaku in the place of one captain, as both have achieved Bankai, and combined, they equal a Captain in reiastu."

"Very well," Yamamoto made a commanding gesture. "6th Squad Captain, Kuchiki Byakuya! 10th Squad Captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro! 11th Squad Captain, Zaraki Kenpachi! You three will head to the real world to confront Code 1. 6th Squad Vice-Captain, Abarai Renji and 11th Squad 3rd Seat, Madarame Ikkaku will accompany you."

Byakuya and Kenpachi shared a look, clearly saying, _back off, he's mine._

 _Sheesh,_ thought Kyoraku, _these young people never learn, do they?_

"You will confirm Code 1's intentions. If he proves to be hostile, you are to suppress the target until Karakura Town is evacuated. 4th Squad Captain, Unohana Retsu, and 13th Squad Captain, Ukitake Juushiro will handle that operation. 2nd Squad Captain Soi Fon, and myself will serve as reinforcements for the combat Captains. 8th Squad Captain Kyoraku Shunsui will be the backup for the evacuation Captains. Now, let the operation commence! GO!"

* * *

Completing his transformation, the now Super Saiyan Trunks calmed himself, assessing the situation. There were five left now, with only the blue eyed one having a decent energy level. He saw that the others were well clear now.

 _He intends to fight me alone. Foolish, but this way, his minions can escape during our fight._

Trunks noticed doubt clouding his opponent's eyes. "I'm warning you, for the last time," he said, trying to encourage the doubt, to avoid an unnecessary fight.

As soon as Trunks warned him, all doubt disappeared, and his eyes shone, clear and determined. A sword appeared in his right hand, as if from nowhere, and his mouth became a grim slit as he charged.

In an instant, he was onto Trunks. He feinted left, and took two extremely quick, balanced steps to the right. It was a move he'd used with a lot of success against other Vasto Lordes, the attack on their strong sides preventing a counter-attack.

He saw the boy look momentarily look in the direction of the feint, falling for it.

The next slice would be crucial, as he had to cripple his left hand. He slashed diagonally, aiming for the boy's left shoulder. _He's clearly left handed, as seen when he sliced Yylfordt..._

 _Wrong._ Trunks took a casual step back, dodging the move with ease. He drew his sword with his _right_ hand, and swung it lazily down onto Grimmjow's face.

He cut halfway through the Hollow mask, and stepped back. Grimmjow, enraged, attempted a killer slash, straight at the boy's heart. Dodging it again this time, he repeated the same motion he'd used to launch the devastating signature uppercut.

Grimmjow noticed the move, and reared his head back to avoid it. This exposed the cut part of his Hollow mask. Trunks gripped the half-sawed part, and used his initial upward momentum to rip it off, easily breaking it.

 _Damn..._ The shock of his Hollow mask being ripped off paralysed Grimmjow for just an instant. That was all Trunks needed. Shoving his sword back into his scabbard, he raised his hand and struck Grimmjow from above with the palm outstretched, and launched a simple Ki blast. Grimmjow rocketed towards the ground, hit it, creating a miniature crater, and just stayed there. The Ki blast sent a visible circular ripple in the air around Trunks' hand.

* * *

Grimmjow awoke to a searing pain all over his body. Somehow, most parts of his body were unhurt. _Oh, fuck..._ He painfully cracked open his eyes.

He was lying in a crater, between rows of suburban houses. The boy was looking at him, blue-green eyes full of pity. That flared Grimmjow's pride, and he made an attempt to get up, to get back at him. He was gathering reiatsu for a Cero, when the familiar screech of the _Gargantua_ sounded, very close to where he was. _Why is it opening now? I can't be fuckin' seen like this by any other Espada... Oh crap._

Trunks heard the horrible scream again. _Who's coming this time?_

Another portal opened up right behind him. He saw his opponents eyes go wide with fear, and quickly turned to face his next opponent. A man came out of the portal, a sword hanging on his belt.

 _Do all these people fight with swords?_

He had brown hair, slicked back carelessly, except for a single strand that hung over his forehead. He was wearing the same white robes as the blue-haired man and his minions, but on him, they seemed regal somehow, more commanding. He had a quiet grace in his movements.

"What's with all the fighting?" he said in a mellifluous voice, "Ah, I see you have beaten my subordinate to quite a pulp. Well done, I must say."

"Who are you? What do you want?" said Trunks, Saiyan half irritated at the delay in finishing his previous opponent off.

"Where are my manners? My name is Aizen Sosuke," the man said, in enchanting and mystical tones, suggesting that he was much more than what he projected. He smiled. "It is strange, though, that you do not remember me. I thought we were friends, weren't we?" as he said it, Aizen gripped his scabbard with his left hand, using his thumb to edge the blade out, just an inch.

Trunks saw Aizen grip the scabbard and tensed. This was hostile ground, and he couldn't waste time chatting. He saw the blade of the sword.

A thought came to his mind, unbidden.

 _Isn't Aizen my friend? Why am I getting tense? He wouldn't harm me. He's my friend! Why do I feel anger towards him?_

 _What am I doing?_

* * *

 **How was it?**

 **The unsheathe-uppercut-sheathe maneuver comes from Dragon Ball Z : Shin Budokai - Another Road, which I do own.**

 **Could you come up with some more moves, other than Burning Attack, to add to Trunks' arsenal?**

 **It would really help in the next few chapters, where a lot of major fights are going to happen.**

 **All reviews are welcome.**

 **Peace out.**


	3. The Freak

**I've got nothing to say, so just start reading...**

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE : THE FREAK**

* * *

 _Already?_

Aizen saw the confusion in Trunks' eyes, and slipped his zanpaktou back into the sheath.

" _Osashiburi,_ Trunks, my old friend. You seem to have given my subordinate quite the thrashing there," Aizen said, sounding to the whole world as if addressing someone very familiar.

"I'm so sorry! If I'd known that he was your subordinate, I would never have hurt him," Trunks felt that the words were strange, but paid no heed.

All that mattered now was that his old friend Sosuke had come to visit him, after a long time.

"Never mind that. I've come here to remind you of your mission, and give you some advice."

"My mission? Advice?" _Kyoka Suigetsu's_ intitial effect reduced mental faculties, rendering Trunks a little dazed.

"Yes. I asked you to come down here and eliminate all reiatsu sources in Karakura Town. They are evil, and they take innocent souls to fuel their own selfish desires."

"Those fiends," said Trunks, "I remember now. Don't worry, Aizen. I'll take him down, just as I promised you."

Trunks now found himself believing everything, as his mind formed new memories to support whatever Aizen said. The fact that Aizen was portraying them to be similar to the Androids helped them fit neatly with Trunks' own version of reality.

The calm, confident voice, as well as the fact that Aizen was his trusted friend also served _Kyoka Suigetsu's_ purpose.

"I have come here to warn you, my dear Trunks," said Aizen. "Another evil group exists here. They call themselves Soul Society, another evil play on their real purpose. They illegally harvest souls using swords called zanpaktou, to increase their own reiatsu. They call themselves Soul Reapers. They are strong warriors who will come after you, feigning benign intentions. To capture you, they will ask you to lower your power output, to supposedly prevent innocents from dying. It's absurd, isn't it? How can simply having a high power level hurt people?"

"Yeah, that's really stupid," agreed Trunks, the very concept of suppressing his power seeming ridiculous to him now.

 _This is way easier than I thought it would be..._ thought Aizen, satisfied with the turn of events. _For a reiatsu this high, he possesses a very weak, impressionable mind. A little push from Kyoka Suigetsu is all it took._

 _He's a genius at head-to-head combat, but strategic and mental warfare is new to him. I should search through his memories for his identity._

 _Wait, what's this? Details of the construction of a time machine?_ _Extremely interesting..._

"They wear black traditional clothing, and all carry a weapon of some sort. Charge and attack immediately on sight. Go for the largest one first, and finish off the others later. I'll explain everything else, as to why you're here, and other things when you're out of danger. I have to leave, now, so good luck!" with a smile on his face, Aizen re-entered the _Gargantua_ , and it closed with the same ominous screech.

 _Why does it have to screech? Is it rusted?_ thought Trunks. The cacophony subsided, and the bustle of Karakura Town was heard in the background.

Grimmjow was still in his crater, totally dazed. _Why the fuck did Aizen, of all people, come to my aid? Or did he come here simply to recruit the bloody boy?_ "H-hey-hey k-k-k-kid..." he stammered. The boy came out of his reverie. He quickly approached Grimmjow.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grimmjow! I had no clue that you were connected to my friend! Here, let me help," putting his hand in his pocket, he brought out a small green bean. Grimmjow coughed up some more blood.

He thrust it into Grimmjow's mouth, anxiously urging him to swallow. Grimmjow swallowed, with a fresh burst of pain from his broken jaw.

The next few seconds passed with Grimmjow in a state of shock, as his bones rejoined, his muscle tissue reknitted, and all pain subsided suddenly. _What was in that bean? How the heck am I healed?_ he thought, as he stood up, as if nothing had ever happened, having been at death's door moments ago.

"You're better now," said the boy. "By the way, my name is Trunks. Nice to meet you,"

"The name's Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. What was that bean?"

"It was a Senzu bean, the last one. It's gone now." Trunks reverted to his normal state, but did not suppress his power level. The yellow aura around him subsided to a dull blue. His hair and eyebrows turned purple, and were no longer spiky, but fell onto his forehead, like before. He turned and faced the sun rising over Karakura Town. _Now to wait for those Soul Society guys..._

Grimmjow stood next to him, weary from the sudden injury and sudden healing. He felt the boy's reiatsu drop, but to a level still much, much greater than his own.

 _What now?_

* * *

Ichigo awoke.

He expected pain, given his deadly injuries from the fight with the alien weirdo, and the spiky-haired old man, but found his body completely healed.

Only his torn _shihakusho_ was proof that he had even taken part in those fights. _Damn it! What am I gonna wear now?_

Still lying down, he looked around. He seemed to be in a bedroom, which was hemispherical in structure. His legs were folded, because the bed clearly belonged to a child. All the furnishings were wooden, including the walls, the floor, and the simple table and chair by the open window.

 _Nice place,_ he thought, as he stretched, and got up. His body _was_ fully healed, and not even scars remained. Even the ones from previous fights, such as the one he got on his shoulder from Kenpachi were gone.

 _This must've been one hell of a healing..._ he mused. He walked over to the window, where the curtain was gently rising in the cool breeze.

There was a book on the table. ' _MATHS'_ , it said. It had a picture of a protractor with a smiley-face on it. _Just how old is this kid? Six? Seven?_

He flipped open the book. As he saw what was inside, all contempt for the cover vanished. He broke out in a cold sweat. _Th...Th-This is not...not possible! How can a kid SOLVE this? It's crazy! I've never seen such hard math before! I haven't the faintest idea what it's about! Is this a kid's math book?_

He closed it with a WHAP, and gingerly placed it back on the table, as if it was a Menos Grande which was not meant to be awoken. _That's enough of that... What other wonders await me here?_ Ichigo noticed a purple chest near the door. _Let's see what's inside box number one..._ he thought, very much like a game show host.

He flipped open the latch, and lifted the lid. It opened with a genuine creak, as if the contents had not seen fresh air for months. A few toys were scattered carelessly across the bottom. And above them, more _'MATHS'_ books, with more images of smiling geometrical instruments. Ichigo hurriedly closed the lid, sweating. _No more math..._

He got up, and tried the door. It was locked from the outside. _Figures..._ he thought as he peered into the gap between the door and the frame. It looked like a normal latch, which could be pushed open if he got some thin object into the gap...

 _WAIT! Where's Zangetsu?_ He turned around and scanned the room, growing more and more panicky as he found no sign of his zanpaktou anywhere in the room. _Crap... Where is it?_ A cold shiver ran down his spine as he dreaded the conclusion his mind had come to. _What if... what if I left... left it back there?_

A scream reverberated through the house.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

* * *

It was a woman's voice. Ichigo was alert in an instant. He stepped back towards the door, and put his ear to it, trying to listen in. (The window's open, bro)

"WHAT IS THIS OVERSIZED MEAT CLEAVER DOING IN MY LIVING ROOM?"

 _She called Zangetsu...a...a...a MEAT CLEAVER!_ relief at having realized Zangetsu's location was decimated by rage at the retarded piece of... _Woman, when I get out of here, I'm gonna freaking kill you!_

She was not done.

"GOKU! COME HERE AT THIS VERY INSTANT!" she yelled in a voice so commanding, even Byakuya would have dropped everything and rushed to her side.

 _Just who is she?_ Ichigo wondered as the man called Goku replied, "Coming, Chi-Chi! What is it?"

"I want you to explain _this,"_ she thundered, obviously referring to the zanpaktou.

Ichigo heard the Goku guy falter. "Er...um... well, it's like this..."

"LIKE WHAT, GOKU?" the Chi-Chi lady sounded even more furious. (like it was possible)

"Um... this-this kid got into a fight..."

The rest was drowned out by pure rage. _KID!_ screamed Ichigo internally. _From WHAT angle do I look like a freaking KID!_

"I don't care about your crazy punk friends and their fights," Chi-Chi's voice carried even above the raging torrent of rage. "What is this butchering tool doing on the SOFA!"

(She was definitely not the patient kind.)

"Well, Chi-Chi, Vegeta hurt the kid real bad, and we took him to Dende for a thorough healing. He still needed a long rest, so I brought him to our place for a while. This is his sword. HE gave Vegeta quite a beating with it, though..."

"Yeah, mom, I was there too." _This is a new voice... wait the old man's name was Vegeta..._ thought the one percent of Ichigo's brain that wasn't erupting like a volcano at the recent string of insults to his zanpaktou, and to being called a kid, repeatedly.

"I don't care!" said Chi-Chi heatedly. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't leave sharp things like this lying around the house. God knows what could happen if Gohan accidentally..."then it hit her. " _Wait... did you just say you brought him in the house?"_ her voice had dropped to a lower volume, but the menace was even greater than before.

 _If I were you, I'd lie, rather than inflame her,_ thought Ichigo, scared of what might happen if she got angrier than she already was.

"Yes! He's right up there, in Gohan's bedroom!" Goku replied innocently, entirely unaware that it was the wrongEST thing to say at that particular moment.

 _Oh...crap._

Then the explosion.

* * *

"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?" Ichigo clamped his hands over his ears, trying to save his eardrums from permanent damage. _That's quite a decibel level..._ He heard only snatches of the ensuing soliloquy.

"A punk...in this house...How could you...Gohan's still a child..."

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. Ichigo opened his ears again a little too late. The footsteps had already reached the door by then. _Shit..._ He only had time to take a protective step back, before the door crashed inwards.

The lady, most likely Chi-Chi, lowered her left heel. She gazed angrily around the room, clearly looking for Ichigo. In a split second, her eyes rested on Ichigo's head. They widened in shock when they saw his orange hair. They moved just a fraction down, and widened even further. The lady's mouth fell open in a soundless scream.

Ichigo was now freaked out. He looked down upon himself.

He saw... _nothing._

 _SHIT._

Time seemed to slow down as he swivelled his head around to look at the bed.

His torn _shihakusho_ was still on it. Along with remnants of his undergarments.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

* * *

Ichigo felt himself being bodily grappled, and the next moment, he was flying out the window, an orange bundle of some sort in his hands. He expected pain for the second time as he landed. Felt none as his fall was slowed by the long meadow grass of East District 439.

"Chi-Chi, WAIT!"

Ichigo turned back, and saw the man called Goku being flung out as well. As he flew in the same arc, Ichigo realized that this throw was aimed at him. _Crap..._

Goku landed with a heavy _thud,_ but felt very little pain. _Funny, Chi-Chi's throws have always hurt before...becoming a Super Saiyan must have changed me in ways I still don't know..._ he wondered.

 _Or, maybe I just landed on the kid..._ the voice of reason inside him commented eloquently, as he felt someone squirming under him. He quickly got off.

The boy, now purple in the face, was coughing and hacking. He just lay there, and caught his breath.

"How are you now?" ventured Goku.

"Physically, fine..." the boy still hadn't opened his eyes yet.

"Mentally, WHAT DO YOU THINK? I JUST GOT MY ASS THROWN OUTTA THE GODDAMN WINDOW BY A HYSTERICAL FREAK OF A WOMAN!"

"Yeah, she does have a temper…" Goku sighed. "Now, put that gi on."

Ichigo was stunned by the lack of any emotion or anger in the calm, peaceful voice. He wore the orange lower garment. It resembled a traditional fighting gi, the sort martial artists wore.

Next came the blue undershirt, and then the orange outer garment. Ichigo noticed the _kanji_ symbol on the left part of the front of the garment. There was a bigger version on the back. Recounting his middle school lessons, he mouthed the symbol. _Kame,_ it said.

"We should wait outside for a little while, until Chi-Chi calms down. It should take around twenty minutes. Meanwhile, why don't you just kick back and relax? It's a beautiful day outside." Goku lay down amidst the long, soft grass, completely at peace.

"Sure..." Ichigo gazed into the distance, marvelling at nature's beauty. The lush, green grasslands, dotted with trees, the huge mountain in the far distance...

"That's Mount Paozu," said Goku, following Ichigo's gaze. "My son Gohan and I usually go there to fish, and train ourselves. I have a great idea! Why don't you join us? I really want a sparring match with you. Your sword fighting seems really good."

"Sure, why not?" Just in the span of a few minutes, Ichigo had already forgotten most of his troubles, and was now at peace.

* * *

A few minutes later, he entered the house again, this time with Goku leading the way. Chi-Chi was sitting at the dinner table, sobbing. "Why does this keep happening only to me?" she muttered. "Goku brings a freak into the house, and he takes over Gohan's room. What next? Oh, how will my poor Gohan study with all this commotion?"

Her son, the one she referred to as Gohan, was consoling her. "Don't worry, mom, everything will be fine. I'll go do math right now, alright?"

Ichigo winced, remembering the dreaded math textbook. He went into the dining room/kitchen with the most mature look on his face he could manage, and said in his most calm voice, "I'm really, really sorry. I did not mean to scare you, or come in the way of your son's studies. Truth be told, I do not know how I came to be here. Some weird thing happened, and I feel that I'm here, stranded far from home. I do not know how to go back. My family and friends must be worried sick,"

Chi-Chi wasn't convinced. "How do I know that's not made up? And what's with that horrible orange hair?"

Ichigo blushed. "I was born with orange hair, and my story is true. Please." He looked meaningfully into Chi-Chi's eyes. It was the same look he'd used to convince Tatsuki every time she got mad.

It had the desired effect. Chi-Chi wiped her tears on the sleeve of her dress. "Never mind that," she smiled. "Goku told me that you were in a fight. You must be famished! Wait right here, I'll cook you a nice lunch!"

"There's really no need..." stuttered Ichigo, "I'm really not that hungry,"

BRRUM.

Ichigo was as red as the setting sun.

Chi-Chi smiled again. "Nonsense! I've never heard of anyone who doesn't get hungry after a fight. I _know,_ " she said, with the smile of one with fighting experience. "Be back in a jiffy!"

"Well then, tell me your name." Goku was sitting on a chair, all ears.

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo picked one of the other chairs, and sat down himself. The after effect of the healing was still not over. He felt tired all over. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Zangetsu on the sofa. He leapt up, and picked up his precious zanpaktou.

Goku was very curious about the sword. "It changes shape when you transform, doesn't it?" he commented.

"Yes, but how did you know..."

"That you transformed? The power increase was quite a clue, I must admit. Also, I have recently just attained a new transformation state, which gives me great speed and power. I really haven't had much time to test out its real ability, though,"

A heavenly scent of food was wafting in from the kitchen. Both Ichigo and Goku took large sniffs, as if eating the air itself. Both sighed simultaneously.

"Anyway," Goku continued, "Since you're pretty strong, will you be my sparring partner? I want to see the extent of your full power,"

"Sure, me too," Ichigo found himself being dragged in by the man's carefree attitude. He was just so _nice_ to talk to, to hang out with...

"What say we work up an appetite before lunch? Gohan can come too," Goku seemed like he was always ready for a good fight.

"Sure, dad!" his son seemed just as eager.

 _Are all father-son duos so similar here? I mean, they could be clones for all I know..._

BRRRUMMMP. This time it was all three of them.

"Or maybe, we could eat first?" The three sat back down, too hungry to move. The smell of the food was overpowering.

"It's ready!" said Chi-Chi. She brought in a humongous rice cooker, and placed it near one chair. She went back, coming this time with an enormous platter of fried fish. Next came the similarly-sized container with bubbling beef hot pot.

As the family settled down to eat, thankfully in normal sized crockery, Ichigo felt completely and blissfully at peace. All his troubles slid away to the back of his mind, he tucked into the delicious meal, and everything else was forgotten.

* * *

Three hours later, the feeling of satisfaction was slowly replaced by nausea. _Just how much do those two eat! Are they freaking monsters?_

For Goku had just finished his forty-sixth bowl of rice, his thirtieth helping of hot pot, and was now finishing off his last fried fish, his fiftieth. Gohan had similarly consumed twenty five bowls of rice, fifteen helpings of hot pot, and thirty one fish. Goku gulped it down whole, bones and all. Satisfied, he patted his stomach.

"Wow! That really hit the spot! Are you sure you're alright, Ichigo?"

Ichigo was a tinge green, and the hot pot seemed ready to come out. He punched his stomach, and let out a humongous burp. "I'm fine," he added sheepishly, colour rising in his cheeks again.

"Now, shall we go out and enjoy that sparring match? It'll help us work this meal off until dinner..."

 _Dinner? Are you freaking kidding me?_ "Yeah, sure!" he added, spirits high after the good fare.

"Gohan! Come on! Let's go!"

"Now, wait a minute," said Chi-Chi, "Gohan, you still have to do your homework. The math is not going to solve itself, is it?"

 _How does that kid solve that kinda math? Is he a super-nerd, or what?_

"Please let me go, mom," pleaded Gohan. "I promise I'll finish it today, alright?"

Chi-Chi relented. "All right, if you promise... Have fun!" Goku let out a big _whoop._ "All right! Last one to the top of Mt. Paozu sits out for the first round!" he yelled. Father and son disappeared, leaving behind an after-image in the chairs they'd occupied just a moment ago.

 _Sheesh,_ thought a content Ichigo, and rose to follow them. The speech he made to console Chi-Chi still rang in his ears. _My family and friends must be worried sick..._

 _This is really nice, but..._

 _How do I get back?_

* * *

 **Until now, the story had progressed rather quickly.**

 **This chapter was intended to break that breakneck pace.**

 **Time to go back to the other side now.**

 **The Super Saiyan Vs Bleach part is up next, baby!**

 **Peace out.**


	4. The Fight - Part One

**Trunks Vs. Soul Society**

 **I can almost hear the guitar solo playing.**

 **Here goes...**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR : THE FIGHT - PART ONE**

* * *

 _What now?_

The sun rose higher, illuminating the skyscrapers in the heart of Karakura Town. Grimmjow watched the yellow ball rise higher and higher, until the blue-haired Espada finally lost his patience.

"What the fuck are we waiting here for, anyway? Aren't we supposed to eliminate the reiatsu sources in this shit heap of a town? Let's go and finish them off, and then, our dumbass errand will be over..."

"Aizen told me that more enemies are coming," his purple-haired companion replied, showing no emotion on his face. "We need to wait here, as they will come find us. I haven't the faintest idea where they are coming from, and when, so it would be better if they come here,"

"But why bloody _wait?"_ two hours of simply standing in the sun was enough to piss anybody off, especially the short-tempered Espada.

"Because I _want to..."_ said Trunks, in a voice, that made Grimmjow remember the thrashing he'd got. _Just this once, boy..._ Grimmjow was not used to being put down like this by a mere child.

They settled back to just watching the bustle of the town. The trees in the park next to the road they were standing on swayed gently in the breeze, and the leaves rustled, which soothed Trunks beyond any measure. _I want to wait here, just looking at this..._

 _I want to enjoy this peace, this beautiful world, before it too dies like mine..._

* * *

The _Senkaimon_ opened near the Urahara Store. Urahara Kisuke, the owner, stepped out and greeted the Soul Reapers coming through. "Kuchiki-taicho! Hitsugaya-taicho! Renji-san! Ikkaku-san! Right here!" he shouted at the group. They exited the gateway, and Hitsugaya spoke up, "Urahara! What do you thinks about this?"

"I have no clue who this is," Urahara replied sheepishly. "I wanted to send Jinta to check, but the reiatsu output suddenly exploded. I was on my there, but Soul Society seems to have taken action. If you need a _Senkaimon_ back, you know where!"

The five Soul Reapers left, without a further word.

 _Why can't they just be more civil? I was a Captain too, you know!_ sighing, Urahara went back inside, and removed the cover off a dusty, old apparatus inside the shop. The old _Senkaimon_ was still compatible with the newer models Kurotsuchi Mayuri had installed.

Urahara smiled.

 _110 years, and he still hasn't upgraded the Senkaimon._

 _He isn't as good as I thought, the new Research and Development head..._

* * *

Trunks sensed the energies appear. _Damn, and I was just starting to enjoy the scene..._

"Let's go, ya fool! Can't you sense that the fuckers are here?" Grimmjow was literally vibrating with excitement as the urge to fight surged like mercury through his veins.

" _Wait,_ I said," replied Trunks. He was definitely not listening to the guy. He seemed way to eager to fight.

Suddenly, five figures appeared, and they made their presence felt by giving out enormous amounts of energy. _Whoa..._ thought Trunks, marvelling their sheer strength. _Those five together could prove to be a slight difficulty..._

"YOU GUYS WANNA FUCKIN' FIGHT, HUH? WELL, I'LL SHOW YOU! I'LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS!"

 _Grimmjow's a liability now... I'm gonna have to keep him away from the main battle._ "Hey Grimmjow! Come here! I think I have another Senzu bean! You may need it!" he called out.

"I don't need that shit! I can take these five, no bloody problem!" he was _definitely_ a liability, being so tactful in the face of opposition...

Trunks quickly stepped towards the Espada, and, in a well remembered motion, struck him in the neck, at a vital point. Grimmjow had time for one last muttered ' _bloody hell...'_ , and he struck the ground, out cold.

 _Thanks for teaching me that the hard way, Gohan..._ thought Trunks, remembering that fateful day all too clearly.

He turned to face the five warriors, who were so eager for punishment...

* * *

"He just took out his teammate!" Abarai Renji was stunned. _Are we dealing with a ruthless killer? One who spares no one just to prove a point?_

"He has just incapacitated him. It was a non-lethal strike, effective in rendering the victim unconscious," said Byakuya.

"He probably doesn't want him to take part. Maybe he's just weak," commented Toshiro.

"Why are we still waiting here? Let's fight now!" Kenpachi was, as usual, overcome by bloodlust.

 _Why did this despicable person have to come with us?_ wondered Byakuya. _Was it just a cruel joke, played by the Head-Captain?_ He gave Kenpachi his most disdainful stare, and then turned back to the Code 1.

Trunks stared at his five opponents. All of the five were wearing black robes, though three had white overcoats on top. The one in the center was wearing some kind of ornament in his hair... _(gay, maybe)_ and seemed the calm one, the one who always fought last.

The guy to his left was quite the opposite, though strangely similar in some ways. He had also spent a lot of time attaching bell-like ornaments to his hair, but he was _fierce._ He gave off a killing intent that even the Androids failed to match. He wore some sort of eye-patch, and had a really scary smile on his face, exposing almost all of his teeth.

 _I'm definitely taking him out first, like Aizen suggested..._

The kid to the left of the maybe-gay guy looked... familiar. He did have an uncanny resemblance to someone he knew...

 _Wait! This kid looks like photos of Gohan I saw in Mother's album! Except with white hair..._

The other two weren't as strong as the main three, though they went for variety. One had red hair, tied back to expose a pretty nice widow's peak, though nowhere as pointy as his father's... The other was bald, but carried a staff with a blade.

 _Finally, some variety in the weapons... I was getting tired of facing swords all the time..._

Then came the final confirmation.

"HUMAN!" the hair-ornament guy's voice rang out over the town.

"Your reiatsu level is beyond what is acceptable in the real world. This crosses safety limits, and other humans might get injured due to sheer spiritual pressure. In the interest of maintaining order, you are recommended to reduce your reiatsu output immediately,"

Trunks powered up.

* * *

 _This is just PERFECT!_ Zaraki Kenpachi was ecstatic. The boy's reiatsu filled his senses, giving him a sense of utmost satisfaction. When the reiatsu exploded again, after that idiot Kuchiki's speech, Kenpachi was almost salivating, raring to go.

Kuchiki Byakuya felt nothing.

No anger. No regret. No pity.

He felt the Code 1's reiatsu swell up to its previous gigantic level and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

A split second later, he saw Kenpachi slam into the ground, with a large _BOOM._

Byakuya was beyond further surprise.

 _Here we go..._

Trunks gave way to his killing intent for the second time, as his Saiyan half relished the chance to burst out and completely control his actions.

There are actually many advantages to fighting immediately after powering down, contrary to popular belief.

Adrenalin from the previous transformation already coursed through the young half-Saiyan's veins, and it raised his mental state to a level where time actually slowed down, giving Trunks a vital first-hit chance, which very few fighters of this calibre got.

He took a step forward, reaching the large bells-guy in almost no time. His now focused eyes searched his opponent's frame for weaknesses, and immediately found one. A scar, probably from a recent battle, ran down the man's right chest area.

Unsheathing his sword, he slashed down like thunder, but found a strange resistance to his cutting speed. In this accelerated time-frame, the bells-guy's skin was tougher and harder to cut, simply because one cannot cut battle-hardened flesh in a nanosecond without some real effort.

Finishing the cut, Trunks marvelled for an instant at how slowly the blood was coming out. In what felt like a minute to him, a few drops had barely oozed out.

Time had, incidentally, stopped for the Saiyan.

Trunks shoved the Z-Sword back into the sheath, and pulled the bells-guy's head front. As soon as the neck was exposed, Trunks delivered a massive thrust with his free elbow, shattering the vertebra inside.

Sensing the bone fracture and crush, he pulled the man even further front, and drove a two-handed punch right into his back, with a lot of force, destroying the man's spine, and sent him flying down towards the ground, even in the accelerated time-frame.

* * *

To the shinigami, it was like Kenpachi had just disappeared, and the Code 1 had taken his place.

As he saw the big guy hit the ground, Trunks savoured the last of his post transformation rush, feeling his adrenalin drop to more 'normal' levels. _Four more to go..._

 _These ones will be hard, as I don't have the element of surprise anymore,_ thought Trunks as the four remaining fighters surrounded him. Hair-ornament was in front of him, redhead was behind him, the Gohan-like kid was to his right, and baldy to his left.

Suddenly, the four yelled in unison.

"BANKAI!"

"Senbonzakura Kageyoshi!"

"Daiguren Hyorinmaru!"

"Hihio Zabimaru!"

"Ryuumon Houzukimaru!"

* * *

 _Wow..._ thought Trunks, as he saw all of them transform at once, like a theatrical performance. Hair-ornament guy was now covered with pink flower petals, ( _definitely gay),_ the white-haired kid was encased in some sort of icy dragon. The redhead had somehow obtained a red scarf, and was wielding a random snake skeleton with a baboon's skull on the end. (Really creepy)

The one, who looked the most dangerous of all, was baldy. He now had three ginormous meat cleavers, one in each hand, and one on his back. The one on his back had a red dragon inscribed on it, and was slowly filling up with a red hue. Baldy had a dangerous glint in his eyes. One usually seen when a close friend is hurt.

 _These guys are seasoned fighters, I'd better..._ Trunks had no time to finish that thought. The pink mass of flower petals was hurtling towards him. _Whoa!_ He barely managed to dodge it, jumping up at the last possible second. _He's fast... and those gay petals are actually blades!_

Abarai Renji saw the boy dodge Senbonzakura's pink barrage, and he was shocked for a split second. He too, barely noticed that the missed attack was, in fact, coming straight at him. With a comic widening of his eyes, he moved to his left, dodging the deadly sharp blades. Some went through his scarf, demolishing it completely.

"Captain!" he shouted indignantly.

Kuchiki Byakuya had the grace to look apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said.

 _I never liked that red abomination anyway..._

As soon as Trunks evaded the first one, he was faced with another. The blades stopped and rushed diagonally upwards, now faster than ever. He was prepared this time, and smartly jumped backwards. As soon as he started moving, he regretted it, for he sensed someone behind him.

Drawing his sword with his left hand, he thrust it behind his back, just in time to parry the white-haired boy's icy attack. As their swords clashed and held position, Trunks saw the boy smile at him. _Damn it, it was a trap!_

The two swords were now firmly stuck together by a large covering of ice, which had been powered up with energy. Unable to move his left arm, Trunks anticipated that the baldy would attack him from the left, his now unguarded side.

Redhead attacked instead. He thrust forward from far away, and the skeleton like sword split into sections, held together with crimson energy. The baboon skull looked menacing as it headed towards its intended target, Trunks' head.

 _Wrong move._

Raising his right hand, Trunks casually caught the giant baboon skull in his right hand, as if it were a softball. Bending his wrist, he cracked the first part of the vertebral skeleton, destroying the other energy links in the process. The entire ensemble crashed to the ground, leaving the redheaded guy with just the hilt in his hand, looking dumbfounded.

Trunks was too absorbed in the redhead to notice that baldy had gotten dangerously close. With a jarring fear, he noticed two of the baldy's three deadly blades rushing towards him, blades singing in the air. He saw that the two were linked by a red thread, which baldy used to control them at large distances. _Need to get him away from at least two of his swords, making him one-third as effective,_ Trunks thought.

As the blades headed towards him, Trunks removed his left hand from his stuck sword, which the ice had not quite covered, and held his sword with his right. As the two blades approached, he caught them both in his now free left hand, in an awkward backhanded grip. The momentum of the blades drove them deep into his palm.

Gritting his teeth, Trunks held on. Then, he saw the mass of pink.

 _Shit! Another trap?_

As hair-ornament guy launched his ferocious attack, Trunks felt a surge. His primal survival instincts were overpowering his mind, forcing him into the zone of absolute concentration.

 _Must... act... now..._

Renewing his grip on the baldy's blades, he pulled hard on them, causing baldy to lose his footing, and hurtle through the air towards Trunks. With another calculated motion, Trunks simultaneously broke the covering of ice around his blade, stunning the white guy.

He sheathed his sword, and as the baldy approached, flying through the air, he used the initial twisting action to his advantage, and kneed the guy, right in the chest. His Saiyan half watched with savage pleasure as baldy's eyes bulged, the added force from the sheathing action providing the few extra kilos of force needed to crush the guy's sternum.

Holding him by the scruff of the neck, he swung him around and launched him right into the stunned white-hair guy. As he threw baldy, the imminent danger of the approaching blades hit him.

 _If those blades get me, I'm toast! A little bloody, but toast nonetheless..._

Now frantic, he turned around to face the huge mountain of pink. The blades were barely a foot away. Drawing up Ki, he supported his right palm with his left, in a motion he'd seen Gohan perform many, many times.

"MASENKO!"

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya lowered his bleeding arms, which had just been protecting his face from his own Bankai.

 _What power..._

Byakuya was a big proponent of preparing for a battle beforehand, carefully planning out scenarios in his head, winning the batle even before it started.

This tactic worked very well against the other Shinigami he trained against, who followed the same strategy, premeditating attacks.

It usually came down to how many attacks could be premeditated before the uncertainty rose significantly. Compared to the thought-out battle style of the shinigami, the boy was way, way more impulsive.

There was no way Byakuya could premeditate the boy's attacks. They were too improvised. He was now forced to take a moment, and think. A grudging respect developed in Byakuya's mind.

 _You've won this round, boy, but you're sorely mistaken if I'm going to let you win another._

 _This fight is far from over._

Kuchiki Byakuya surveyed the stalemate. The Kenpachi was definitely down for the count. His own Vice-Captain appeared to have brought his Bankai back from having been completely dismantled by the boy.

Hitsugaya was reeling a little from the recent impact with Ikkaku's hard head, but seemed to be unhurt. Ikkaku, however, seemed in pain. The boy had crushed his sternum, after all...

 _He will fight, though. He is part of Zaraki's pigheaded squad, the ones who live to fight._

 _So, one down, one injured. Not bad, but not good either. So far, we haven't got even a single hit on the boy. Need to reassess strategy, and come up with a counterattack..._

 _Damn it! No time left!_

For the boy had resumed his blitzkrieg attack on the captains.

* * *

 _LET'S ATTACK! WHILE THEY'RE STILL CONFUSED! NOW!_

As Trunks chose his next opponent (victim would be more appropriate), he couldn't help but notice that he was acknowledging his bloodthirsty Saiyan half far too much.

 _Anymore, and I'll become like my father..._ he mused.

 _ATTACK NOW!_

There it was, again. Taunting. Pushing. Rising.

His face a grim line, he silently swore to push his Saiyan half back down, as soon as the fight was done with.

Trunks chose red. Surging towards him, Trunks knew that he'd lost the transformation rush. He saw the guy react.

 _Not fast enough._

Like a dance, Trunks sidestepped and used his foot to stamp on redhead's fragile cartilaginous kneecap, Sleeping Dogs style. He felt the joint overextend, and then finally give way as tendons and ligaments tore. He took a step back, and sensed an attacker to his left.

Baldy was back, and had a maniacal grin on his face. Trunks took a moment to appraise his opponent's attitude.

 _You really enjoy this, don't you? Sick freak..._

As he sliced down with his humongous curved blade, Trunks saw that the grip was in the middle of the weapon.

 _A little torque should do it..._

The nerd inside Trunks surfaced as he placed both palms on opposite sides and opposite edges of the blade, for maximum turning force, and shot two Ki blasts.

Ikkaku felt his arm die, as it was twisted violently. Hozukimaru' s blade turned a full two revolutions before it stopped. His arm fell, completely limp.

Ikkaku realized now, that he was well and truly screwed. (forgive the pun...)

He caught a glimpse of the boy's eyes, as he unsheathed his sword. They seemed dead, and cold. In the last moment, before the sword thrust pierced his vital organs, he realized that the coldness was actually feigned.

Behind the veil of indifference, a great fire burned alongside a great melancholy.

 _The boy hungers for revenge._

 _Revenge for what, I wonder?_

And then, all went black.

* * *

Trunks slid his sword out. _Baldy will live,_ he thought. He had carefully avoided all major arteries and organs.

He turned back towards the redhead, who was still groaning in pain. Grabbing both his shoulders, Trunks drove his knee right into his gut. His opponent's eyes widened comically for a second time, as he retched blood, which Trunks deftly dodged.

 _No need to get messy, is there?_

Holding the man's face with his left hand, Trunks punched his lower jaw. Discombobulating the enemy was the easiest way to render him harmless. Releasing his grip, Trunks let the redhead fall down on his own, unconscious.

 _Three down._

Hitsugaya Toshiro watched as his allies were decimated, one by one.

 _He too good to take on in a frontal assault. I'm sorry, Renji, Ikkaku, but I'm going to wait for the right time._

He cursed himself for not being able to help, but his prudent side knew that it was a hopeless cause.

 _Have...to...wait._

Then, an opportunity presented itself. The boy, having finished Renji off, raised his hand towards him, preparing for another long-range attack.

 _I got you, you son of a bitch!_

Pointing his sword right at the boy's outstretched hand; Toshiro immediately shot a flow of reiatsu-hardened ice, the tip of which resembled a dragon. The dragon sped and made sure contact with the boy, freezing his entire forearm.

 _I'll pull him over here, then freeze his brains out with Hyorinmaru's Ryuusenka..._

The boy looked at the ice covering his arm, then at the continuous flow between him and Toshiro's sword.

He smiled.

 _OH CRAP._

* * *

Trunks broke the ice, again. Jabbing with his left hand, fingers outstretched, he cracked it, freeing his arm. It was still connected to the white-haired guy's sword. He now had an adventage. Pulling hard on the icy column, he dragged white-haired guy right down, icy wings and all.

As soon as he came close, Trunks jabbed at the ice near the guy's sword, freeing it at the other end, now that its first purpose had been fulfilled. This resulted in Trunks getting a free column of hardened ice, which he could now use as a weapon.

Grabbing it with both hands, like one would hold a baseball bat, Trunks hit an icy home run, breaking the white-haired boy's back. The ice was surprisingly resistant. Even after giving it all he'd got, it had still remained intact.

 _Let me try again._

A second home run of that intensity was more than the ice could handle, as the staff broke and splintered. It had the desired effect, though.

White-haired guy was well on his way to eating some earth.

Trunks shook his arms, dislodging any remaining ice, and rose up to face his last opponent of the day. He locked eyes with the hair-ornament guy.

The sound of Toshiro hitting the ground was sufficient to emulate thunder.

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya had been waiting for this.

A chance to fight the boy, alone. Without any restrictions. He readied himself, and entered the inner sanctum of his mind. A complete calmness enveloped him. Even his tumultuous reiatsu settled.

 _This is my fight now. You are going to die, boy._

(Pretty optimistic, considering that the boy had felled four Captain-class warriors without a scratch)

He called out.

"You have my respect, boy, for taking down four of the strongest warriors."

"Heh, they were _easy..._ " clearly, the boy was too cocky by half.

Byakuya reined in his anger. This was not the time for a display of emotion. No time ever was, in Byakuya's opinion.

"Anyway, I would like to know your name, boy. Take it as a measure of the respect I have for you,"

"The name's Trunks."

Trunks waited for the eventual look of confusion, and then the laughing. There was none.

"My name is Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain of the 6th Squad, of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads." Byakuya smiled. "It is an honour to fight you, Trunks."

Trunks marvelled at the way Byakuya managed to say 'Trunks' without a hint of amusement on his face.

 _I like him... It's a pity he's one of the bad guys, though._

"Let's begin."

Byakuya gathered the petals of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi around him, readying for Trunks' assault.

 _If he attacks, I'll be ready._

But the attack did not come. Trunks was just standing there, in a defensive position. _Your move,_ his eyes seemed to say.

Byakuya complied. He sent Senbonzakura whirling in a complex pattern, continuously changing shape, and surrounded Trunks from all sides. He searched for an opening, for the inevitable moment when he had to blink...

 _There!_ He closed his hand into a fist. All the blades converged onto the young boy.

They hit nothing. Trunks had already moved, and was standing above the vortex of petals, waiting.

Just waiting.

Byakuya gathered the swirling mass for another go, this time going for the fast flyby, rushing the blades across instead of making them converge. He watched as this attack too, was rendered futile.

Every time the blades were about to hit, the boy moved back, ever so subtly. Every single time, he stepped just clear of the vortex, without so much of a single scratch. Even after barrage number two, he just stood there, lingering.

 _He realizes that my defence is absolute..._ thought Byakuya. _If he attacks, I'll counter him in a flash, and that will give me the perfect chance to get him. So, he's just waiting, and thinking._

 _I won't give him the chance to think any more._

* * *

 **To all those who do haven't already guessed, Kenpachi Zaraki is NOT DONE.**

 **The next part of the fight will include some invention on my part, as I will be giving Senbonzakura Kageyoshi another crazy upgrade.**

 **Please comment on how to further continue the Ichigo part of the story.**

 **I need reviews, people. How else am I gonna know what you thought of the story? Huh?**

 **Please take a few minutes to tell me your thoughts, and suggestions.**

 **Writers do live for reviews, you know...**

 **Anyway, peace out.**


	5. The Fight - Part Two

**Senbonzakura freaking Kageyoshi.**

 **Definitely not as gay as it looks.**

 **Here's the next level of Byakuya's Bankai, courtesy WhoIsThisGuy.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE : THE FIGHT - PART TWO**

* * *

The pink blades got faster.

Trunks kept dodging, and was still racking his brains for a way to attack.

Faster. Faster. Even faster.

Trunks was forced to devote more and more of his concentration to evasion, and was not able to commit enough thinking power to find an opening any more. Now, the blades were just a blur, and Trunks was on his heels, just trying to dodge them all.

Then, it happened.

 _YES!_

Byakuya saw the boy wince, although no blade had touched him at all. He drew his attack back, and observed the result. A thin slash now adorned Trunks' nose. It was no larger than a paper cut, but the status quo was broken.

Byakuya had drawn first blood.

* * *

( _Not really; Trunks had ripped gashes in Byakuya's arms before, but I'm metaphorically speaking here..._ )

* * *

Trunks was surprised. Not pleasantly so. _How did I get cut? There was no blade there..._

 _Wait a moment! What if... if it was hidden?_

Byakuya had come to the same conclusion. He watched Senbonzakura float around him, and saw that some of the petals disappeared, when at a certain angle to the sun. Otherwise, they reflected the sunlight and shone a bright pink.

 _If I angle them such that he cannot see them..._

 _Then I'm finished,_ Trunks completed that thought for him.

Suddenly, Byakuya focused, and made a slight gesture with his palms.

The blades disappeared.

Trunks felt a familiar sensation growing in his head, one which the Androids never failed to induce in him. He was afraid, and not happy about it.

Suddenly, a large gash opened up on Trunks' left bicep. He yelled in pain, and clutched it with his right hand, in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. The invisible blades struck again, this time on his thighs, forcing him down to his knees.

Byakuya attacked again and again and yet again. He could take no chances with a fighter of Trunks' level. He felt no remorse, having done this in countless battle before this one.

He only felt pity.

* * *

Trunks could not move. He could barely breathe, for fear of accidentally inhaling a few blades. All he could do was crouch helplessly, as the razor sharp barrage of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi scoured his body, and as they slowly worked their way inward, he fought the rising panic inside him, forcing himself to calm down and think of a solution.

 _Think! Think! Think!_ He screamed mentally.

 _YOU FOOL! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! THINK!_ His Saiyan half stated the obvious.

 _SHUT UP!_ His intellectual half screamed back.

More waves of petals sliced through him, bringing fresh bursts of pain in a steady rhythm.

 _I cannot see the blades, because they do not reflect the sun's light... What do I do?_

 _Create a new light._

* * *

For a second, Trunks was flabbergasted. The voice that had just spoken was new, an altogether bass tone, unlike his hysterical mental squeak.

 _Who are you?_ He screamed at the unknown voice.

It did not reply.

 _WHO ARE YOU?_ Trunks went for maximum mental volume.

Still, no reply.

The blades were deeper now, and had almost reached his heart.

Byakuya grunted, now visibly sweating. This kind of fine control was taking its toll. He could not attack as fiercely, and was not able to control as many blades. A few just floated around him, lifeless.

Progress was slow. A direct frontal barrage was not possible, as there was no way to hide the blades. Only grazing blows, in the direction of the sunlight were possible. This meant that reaching the vital organs would take time, given that the boy's skin was so _damn_ tough.

Fatigue had slowed the already glacial process further. Byakuya was irritated at the delay.

 _Any more time, and he'll come up with a counter... I have to keep this up._

 _If he devises a counter, I will have no energy to block or fight back._

 _I have to give all I've got into this one strategy, and hope it works._

* * *

A larger burst of pain from the most recent barrage almost made Trunks succumb to it, and give up. Yet, through some kind of manic willpower, he held on to his slipping consciousness.

 _WHO ARE YOU?_

The voice was not replying. Trunks gave up trying to call out to the voice, focusing on its advice instead.

 _Create a new light... What did it mean by that?_

The blades had now come much deeper, and were just bare millimeters from slicing a major artery. Trunks racked his failing, fatigued brain for answer, but found none.

 _This is it, I suppose..._

In what he thought were his final moments, he went into a small flashback. He remembered that fateful day. The day Gohan died.

He relived the experience; as if time inside his mind had slowed down to give him one last recap. He remembered his rage, his vow of revenge against the Androids.

 _I'm sorry, Gohan, I have failed. Guess I'll be won't be meeting you in the afterlife, what with this being another timeline and all..._

His recap reached the final part. The most glorious part. He remembered transforming for the first time.

The rage, the ecstasy, the golden aura...

 _WAIT A FREAKING MINUTE!_

 _CREATE A NEW LIGHT?_

 _DAMN MY STUPID BRAIN!_

* * *

As one blade finally pierced the boy's heart, Byakuya felt nothing. Not even pity.

 _He was given a warrior's death. It's more than what most get._

He watched blood cover the front of his jacket, and the way he hung lifelessly was proof enough.

 _Let me give him a decent ending._

Byakuya prepared for a final attack, to totally finish off the body, ripping it into tiny shreds, returning it to the earth.

 _Sayonara, Trunks..._

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

 _WHAT THE HELL?_

* * *

Byakuya could not believe what he'd just witnessed. The boy's reiatsu, instead of dropping down to nothing, had now suddenly taken an enormous jump upward. He was suddenly surrounded by a golden glow, which slowly spread into a large, flame shaped aura.

Sparks rushed around the boy's body. As he continued screaming, his reiatsu kept jumping upward.

 _What the hell is this?_

The boy's hair, which initially hung about his face, had now risen, and was standing up in spikes. As he screamed again, the hair lit up with a flurry of sparks, now giving off an intense golden glow. Even his eyebrows turned golden.

 _Wait a minute, wasn't his heart pierced? How is it handling such pressure?_

Byakuya stared at Trunks' chest. Not only had the blood stopped flowing, a protective layer of pure reiatsu now covered his heart, allowing it to function normally. The reiatsu then proceeded to heal the most major piercing first, and then worked on the others.

 _His reiatsu heals him now?_

Byakuya thought he should have been beyond surprise. He couldn't have been more wrong. As he gaped at the light the boy was emanating, a huge revelation hit him.

 _He now gives off light. There's no way I can hide Senbonzakura's blades now..._

The reiatsu started stabilizing, and hit its peak, a level incomparable to anything Byakuya had witnessed before.

Trunks finished powering up, and slowly opened his eyes.

Byakuya's blades were visible clearly now, bathed in his own aura. They shone golden now, matching his hair. He gave Byakuya a piercing look.

 _You're finished now..._

* * *

 _I WILL NOT DO IT._

Genryuusai Yamamoto stood firm on that. _That_ was never going to happen, not on his watch.

Soul Society was being overrun by half-dead humans, souls, and the occasional Shinigami, who couldn't bear the immense weight of the enemy's reiatsu. Even Unohana and Juushiro were feeling compressed, their own sizable reiatsu levels dwarfed by this, this monstrosity.

The old man had over a millennium's worth of experience, 900 years as Head Captain of the Gotei 13. Yet, life (as a dead guy) continued to throw more twists at him, relentlessly working to keep him busy, not even giving him a moment's respite.

The Head Captain enjoyed being too busy to think, but the decision that had been suddenly put upon him, as Code 1 decimated his Captains, was one too many.

He just couldn't do it.

He walked over to the balcony, overlooking Seireitei in its entirety, and the rest of Rukongai in the horizon. A slight puff of wind made the tail of his haori flutter. The same haori that seemed so light all this while now was an unnecessary burden. Granted, that with great power, came great responsibility, but this was way too much to ask, even of him.

He WOULD NOT call _them_ , even if he had to die for it. The Thirteen Squads would sort out their own problems, rather than turn away and run towards _their_ protection. He knew that the Code 1 was stronger than him, but dying while fighting was better than to throw away one's pride, begging those people to help.

Squad Zero was going to stay out of this, at least till he was alive.

 _Looks like I have to fight..._

The old man spent one last moment gazing out at the turmoil, and turned to his already-open Senkaimon. The shimmering shape of Urahara Kisuke stood on the other side. _Whoever you are, you'd better watch out._

 _I expect no mercy, nor give any._

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya was finished.

He just stood there, waiting for it to happen. Coldness had seemed to overcome him, numbing all senses. He was tired, dead tired. And now he was going to be dead.

The few petals of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi that he still controlled drifted around him, reflecting the same lifelessness he was soon to experience. They shone golden now, not the pinkish hue he'd become used to seeing.

He looked at the rest of his beautiful Bankai, just lying on the ground, completely useless. By some weird coincidence, they'd all fallen down together. They now resembled a lake, shining brightly, reflecting the gold aura of his enemy.

 _Ah, my enemy..._

Byakuya looked at his young opponent, for the last time. Trunks seemed calm and composed. His reiatsu had almost finished healing him now, and the last remnants of Senbonzakura's barrage were fading, as gashes closed, scars were wiped away, and injured tissue was re-knitted.

It was a very similar experience, and carried a sense of déjà vu. He'd stood like this before. Tired, bloody, weak, and unable to move.

Defeated.

Byakuya looked into his opponent's eyes. He saw nothing but resolve show through, all emotions locked up deep inside, not even a peek of smugness, or gloating.

 _He respects me..._

A sudden burst of happiness flooded Byakuya's consciousness. The joy of being recognized, the delight of finally meeting one who understands your situation.

Mind awash with euphoria, he prepared for death.

He saw the boy unsheathe his sword. Planting his left foot forward, he swung his sword back. It seemed like he was going for an uppercut. He held the sword there, and poured reiatsu into it.

 _A Getsuga Tensho? How does he know that?_

Byakuya remembered the devastating attack the Kurosaki boy used, in their fight in Seireitei.

The one Trunks was powering up for looked the same, but was fundamentally different. This was a much weaker attack.

 _WHAT? Does he intend to kill me with that?_

 _I thought you had respect for me... NO. I WILL make you come and kill me with a direct sword thrust. No cheap long-range shots. I deserve to be killed by hand!_

Trunks fired, sending the familiar scythe of reiatsu towards Byakuya, a golden sickle of power.

Refusing to go down in such a dishonorable way, Byakuya gathered all his strength, and leaned leftward, dodging the thin, razor sharp strike.

Byakuya was too agitated to notice the sword sliding into him, at first. But when the cold steel finally made its presence felt, Byakuya was almost grateful.

He understood the reason for the weak shot. As the sword slid through, Byakuya was completely at peace. This was the way he'd intended it to happen. His own dodge turned against him, to give him a complete, dignified finish. He calmly accepted the embrace of the blackness that surrounded him.

Then, he realized that the sword had come out of his gut, missing every vital organ on its way.

 _DAMN YOU!_

 _WHY DID YOU NOT KILL ME?_

As Byakuya slid off the sword, he desperately opened his eyes, trying to show his contempt for that _damn_ boy's irritatingly soft behavior.

 _I DESERVED TO DIE, YOU FREAK! THIS IS WORSE!_

As his eyes opened, Byakuya saw a black shape rise up in front of him, as he fell.

 _Don't tell me... that I fell, before HIM? Seriously, death would have been better..._

And the blackness engulfed him.

* * *

 _So, the gay guy was manly after all..._

Trunks felt nothing as Byakuya slid off the Z-Sword. In a way, he was relieved he didn't kill anyone, despite his Saiyan half wanting to claim all of them.

 _I will maintain my honor. I will not descend to that level._

The spikes of his golden hair swayed slightly.

 _HOLY SHIT!_

Usually, one attributes swaying of one's hair to a gentle breeze, and _usually,_ there is no need to panic.

 _Usually._

* * *

One's hair swaying even when covered completely by a staggering amount of energy, however, is not possible. That is, until a comparable power level enters the vicinity. It was not too big, but was enough to drag Trunks back into full focus. He turned to look at the source of the energy output.

 _WHOA!_ Trunks barely parried the first swing, noticing the glint of his opponent's sword at the last possible second. As their swords clashed with a cacophony of scratched metal sliding over scratched metal, Trunks could not believe his eyes.

The hair-bells guy was back.

Zaraki Kenpachi had waited for the boy to turn. Waited with his enthusiasm barely kept in check. _Finally... some action..._

As soon as the boy's neck had turned the necessary ninety degrees for their eyes to make contact, Kenpachi swung, a looping overhead strike. It was aimed to test, not wound.

 _CLANG!_ The boy passed. Disengaging, Kenpachi drew back and struck again, this time a strong backhand, shoulder muscles visible through his shihauksho. Another sweet sound of metal on metal.

Elated, Kenpachi swung harder. It was met by the same repetitive clanging, again and again. He could not help but smile. He was enjoying this thoroughly.

 _At last, someone worthy._ His last fight with the Kurosaki kid had left some withdrawal symptoms. He'd been agitated, and had slashed recklessly at anything that moved. His frustration at the lack of a worthy opponent had built up till he could not bear it anymore.

He had visited Rukongai, and had trashed a few buildings, just to let out some steam. He was addicted to the adrenalin rush, the ecstasy of fighting with one's life on the line. Any large fight did nothing to satisfy him, it just made him crave for more.

And after a month of absolute hell, the opportunity had presented itself. The arrival of a large reiatsu, even if it was in the real world, had set Kenpachi on edge. Yachiru was relieved to see him smile after that month.

Kenpachi had sworn to fight till his body no longer could, till he was satisfied.

 _Huh, like that's ever going to happen,_ he thought as he launched into another rapid series of strokes.

* * *

 _Wow._

Inside his cold, unfeeling mind, Trunks felt appreciation for the bells guy appear, as of out of nowhere. Unlike the other Super Saiyans, who went all gung-ho upon transforming, Trunks forced himself to cool down, detaching his mind from all emotions. He became a fighting machine, not prone to any emotional outbursts.

The maximum emotion even the Androids had managed to draw so far was a grimace, as they taunted him during one of their endless games of cat and mouse. That was the reason he was kept alive. They simply wanted to torture him before the eventual decimation. Make him suffer.

 _I will never allow that to happen. Never._

Hence, he had developed his Super Saiyan form to be completely calm and emotionless, even in the most stressing of times. Times when they said horrible things about Gohan.

But now, this man in front of him, this behemoth of a man was slowly drawing out respect from the cold, deep recesses of his mind. He was persistent, Trunks had to admit. But the unflinching nature of his attacks, even though he was severely outmatched, was evoking admiration from his _Saiyan_ half.

 _Why can't you be like him, huh? You cowardly fool! Let me fight him!_

This was bad. His Saiyan half had never done that before, considering his human side as a different person... It grew stronger every time he transformed, every time he let himself enjoy fighting.

It had started as a gentle whisper, nothing more, just a few tips of advice during the Androids' first few torture rounds. _Dodge this, duck now, slash this way..._ and so forth. But as days passed, it began to dictate his fights. Trunks did not mind, as long as it stayed that way, but it grew stronger. It began to have a will of its own. It began expressing opinions, and a small desire to take over crept in.

Then, all of a sudden, it became docile again. But the recent string of fights, first against Grimmjow, then against these Soul Reaper freaks, his Saiyan half had begun to get cocky, too cocky by half. And now, it wanted to take over?

 _Not happening. I'm definitely not going evil, never in my life._

(The simple concept of good and evil, so cliche DBZ...)

And now, there was another voice in his head. The bass tone which had helped him against Byakuya, then shut up like a clam.

 _How many personalities can a single mind hold? Am I going insane? Is this all a dream, created by the Androids? Is this a nightmare?_

Parrying bells-guy's most recent barrage, Trunks wondered about the Byakuya character. He was most unlike the general creed of villains he'd fought before. He was, you could say, almost humane in his approach, like he was aiming to suppress, not kill.

Not the bells guy, though. His killer instinct flooded the entire airspace around him, and Trunks knew that he wasn't going to lie down like a wimp after one wound. This guy was fighting just 'cause he wanted to, without any care for consequences.

 _This will take a while..._

* * *

The first thing Genryuusai Yamamoto noticed was the reiatsu. Or, to be more precise, the lack of it. He sensed bare minimum output from four sources, while one seemed to be on the rise. The last one was _definitely_ not the least. In fact, it dwarfed even his own reiatsu.

This was to be expected. Reverberations of the sheer power of Code 1 were rattling Soul Society, completely defeating its purpose of being a safe haven for souls. If this carried on any further, the enormous output ( _what a waste..._ ) would accidentally gather and open a makeshift _Senkaimon_ either to Soul Society, destroying all the Souls there, or even to Hueco Mundo.

Yamamoto's blood ran cold.

 _What if... this was HIS plan all along? What if Aizen intended to destroy Soul Society using this guy's enormous power to kill off most of the Captains and other shinigami, leaving the rest defenceless?_

Urahara Kisuke was bored. The old man had just entered into the real world, but just stood there at the edge of the Senkaimon, brooding. _Is he going to do something, or what? Or should I just ignore him and teach Jinta something new?_

 _Finally._ The old man stirred. He opened his heavy eyelids, and his eyes exuded a ferocity which Urahara had never seen before.

 _He's completely serious._

Genryuusai Yamamoto had reached a decision.

He had considered all options, and this one seemed the least objectionable. "Urahara! Come with me now!"

"Yes, Head Captain," Urahara seemed reluctant.

 _Never mind that, as long as he comes._ He laid the final parts of his plan into place, inside his head. He would ask the last remaining Captain to assist him, and they would attack the Code 1 with all their might, forcing Code 1 to exude an even greater amount of reiatsu. This would destabilize the boundary between the real world, Soul Society, and Hueco Mundo.

This was where Urahara came into play. "You will ensure that the release of reiatsu is channeled towards Hueco Mundo," Yamamoto explained. "This will create a temporary opening, and the residual output will cause the extermination of quite a few Hollows. Using this, I will enter Hueco Mundo, and end it with Aizen right there."

Urahara nodded. This was by far the best course of action, given the circumstances.

As they flash-stepped through the deserted remains of Karakura Town, Genryuusai Yamamoto was curious as to which of the five captains he'd sent were still fighting.

 _It would mostly be the Byakuya boy..._ he mused, _He's got a certain talent of staying alive in such situations..._

* * *

Trunks noticed the others flying in.

 _Is there no end to these sword-wielding dumbasses?_ he thought, even as his Saiyan half performed what could only be called a mental self-five. (HIMYM fans, here we go)

Meanwhile, his opponent was busy attacking uselessly, with the face of a child who had chanced upon a long lost toy. He was immersed in it, and Trunks was being drawn in by the sheer pleasure of fighting this man. He couldn't help but love what he was doing, the split-second decisions, the pure notes of metal on metal, as two artists enjoyed an intricate dance, fuelled by passion...

 _Hey, hey, HEY! Who'd have thought I was so messed up inside? An intellectual side, a raging bloodthirsty maniac side, and now even a gay, flowery side!_

 _Which personality's really my own, I wonder?_

Zaraki Kenpachi was in heaven. He'd found his perfect match. An opponent who didn't even pay attention to his attacks, one who carelessly pushed him away as if he was so much potato salad. This was what he'd wanted, a challenge.

This was not only a fight for one's life, but also a fight to gain recognition as one of the greatest alive. His opponent refused to acknowledge him, so he was going to change that.

He was too engrossed to pay any attention to the two silent spectators standing behind him. All that mattered now, was the next strike, and the next, and the next. He had to find an opening, and strike where it hurt.

Thrusting, he quickly changed his swing, cutting upwards and left, aiming to slice open his opponent's heart. This was met with a jarring parry, golden and azure sparks running along the length of his blade.

As he brought his sword down, he realized that he had to do it, in order to even begin to compete with this guy.

Exposing all his teeth in a broad smile, Kenpachi reached over, and took off his eyepatch.

There was an explosion of reiatsu.

* * *

 _HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!_

Trunks was surprised. Half of him, pleasantly so. _He's got more power coming?_

As the attacks began with renewed vigour, Trunks kept glancing at the duo behind his opponent. One of them seemed to be simply watching. He was definitely waiting for something big to happen. The other one, the old guy, was ogling his sword as if he'd just witnessed a tomato doing a guitar solo.

 _I cannot believe this. I simply WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS!_

Genryuusai Yamamoto had gone into shock. There was no way the boy was in possession of _that_. The object had been revered in Soul Society for millennia, and now it was being used to chop up it's previous guardians? How was this possible? This was simply beyond comprehension.

Yamamoto simply continued staring, mouth agape, the hastily formed plan from before now forgotten entirely.

 _Why does THAT boy have it in his hands? WHY?_

Despite his psyche being in a state of massive turmoil, the Head Captain stayed calm. Only the barest whisper escaped his lips.

" _Kai?"_

* * *

 **I'm far from finished, though...**

 **How was it?**

 **Please review, people!**

 **I know that you guys are reading this, so come on!** **It takes only a couple of minutes.** **I'd really appreciate it, so, please review.**

 **I believe that it is time for another Ichigo chapter, don't you think?**

 **Just kidding. I still have a lot of loose ends I have to tie up, especially the last line.**

 **Rest assured, Kai is probably the most amazing thing in the entire crossover.**

 **It eclipses Byakuya's upgrade by leaps and bounds.**

 **I'm gonna just give you a hint, alright?**

 ** _Kai...Shi-Kai...Ban-Kai..._**

 **Figure it out by yourselves.**

 **And now, for the reviews.**

 **Thanks to the two guests who have reviewed the story. It's appreciated.**

 **Also, KitsuneLover300, i have thought about your ideas on the Ichigo plot, and have implemented a few.**

 **Esaint Dracul, it's fine, I understand that you overreacted, but in the future, try and limit the story busting to just one review at the end, OK?**

 **It's not a good feeling to see 4-5 new reviews, all by the same person, and all negative.**

 **TrunksXMai will take the story out of its current flow, so I won't do it.**

 **TrunksxRukia works for me. Will give it some thought.**

 **That's all.**

 **Peace out.**


	6. The Transformation

**Hey look! A freaking update!**

 **Long time no see.**

 **Well, apologies for the delay.**

 **But, as they say, some-cliche-shit-which-no-one-cares-about.**

 **On with the chapter, then...**

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX: THE TRANSFORMATION**

* * *

"Come on up, you slowpokes!"

Goku's shout rang out onto the valleys surrounding Mt. Paozu.

Kurosaki Ichigo sprinted the last two hundred yards. The orange gi and trousers he was wearing were surprisingly lithe and roomy. They had felt heavy and durable before. Now, they were just durable.

Ichigo skidded on the grass, and simply fell onto it, smiling broadly. Surprisingly out of character for the sullen orange haired _shonen,_ but it proved that two hours with Goku could turn anyone's frown upside down.

Gohan was the last to arrive, a little out of breath, and shaky. It seemed two years of math had played keep away with his stamina.

"All right! Gohan, as we decided, you will sit out for the first round. Ichigo! It's you versus me first!" Goku called out.

"Yeah, seems so," a confident smile appeared on Ichigo's face, as if out of nowhere.

 _This is going to be awesome._

Plucking Zangetsu from his back, Ichigo held its hilt in one hand, using the other to free the cloth wrapping. Once it was loose, it came undone on its own, spiralling counter-clockwise, freeing the sword.

Ichigo took an open stance. He held his sword in both hands, and kept it in front of his chest and face. From that stance, it was possible to go in all directions, and suddenly switching to a one-handed grip was much easier. The stance could change into any of the other specific stances, depending on the opponent's style.

 _Your move,_ it seemed to say.

His opponent, much to Ichigo's surprise, did not draw any weapon at all. Settling into a low pose, he turned his chest to the right, and lifted both hands, closing three fingers, and leaving the other two bent like a claw. A fairly standard pose for most martial artists, Ichigo observed.

"Where is your weapon?" Ichigo definitely admired the guy's confidence, but a slice from Zangetsu would not just stop at being lethal. It was a pretty sharp sword, after all...

"Oh! Well, I prefer my fists," Goku said. There was no gloating, no stupid foolishness, nor the timid bluff. He was simply stating a fact. That's all.

"In fact," he continued, "I _do_ have a weapon."

 _What is it? Show me!_ Ichigo was piqued.

Goku raised a finger.

There was a moment of silence, as the implication finally hit home.

Ichigo looked upwards.

"Where is it?"

Goku looked up as well.

* * *

( _Another second's pause, this time filled with sounds of heavy laughter, falling off chairs, shoving faces into random objects, and general chaos._ )

Goku shook his head. "No, no! _This_ is the weapon."

For emphasis, he poured a little Ki into his index finger. It was immediately surrounded by a blue aura.

"Here. Your sword versus my index finger." Goku smiled.

Ichigo raged internally. How much can a person _fucking UNDERESTIMATE_ someone else?

 _Well, he deserves what's coming at him._ Ichigo charged. Sprinting, he aimed a powerful two handed downward slam, right on Goku's head. Halfway through his swing, he met with an enormous resistance.

 _Huh?_ He thought, as he struggled to push down. He noticed a blue aura coming off Zangetsu. Goku had stopped his swing with just one finger. Before Ichigo had time to pull back, Goku flicked upward.

Zangetsu would have flown upwards into the sky, and far beyond, but for the muscle in Ichigo's hands providing the necessary friction. The huge _zanpakuto_ moved in a circle, over Ichigo's head, and thudded into the ground behind him, jarring both arms.

 _Whoa!_ Ichigo pulled his arms back, freeing the sword from the ground. _Just how strong is this guy?_ He prepared himself for another attack. This time, he brought Zangetsu in a roughly diagonal arc, slashing at Goku's unguarded shoulder.

Again, the finger was there. Ichigo noticed the movement this time, but just barely. Not waiting an instant, he rotated his entire torso, swinging in a horizontal arc, aiming for Goku's neck. There was no way he could move fast enough to counter _his_ counter… Ichigo reasoned.

WHOCK!

Another jarring feeling ran up Ichigo's arms. _Wha-what is this freaking guy's problem? Just one more, and I'll know he's definitely good._ Nimbly turning his sword, he brought it down, and bent his knees. Then, using both shoulder and thigh muscles, he rose and gave an uppercut, _samurai_ movie style.

Alas, if only the little orange-head knew who he was fighting against…

Goku turned sideways in a fluidic motion, letting the sword pass his chest, missing it by a bare millimetre. Raising his arm faster than the sword swing, he bent his finger into a hook and _caught_ the sword by its blade.

Pulling down hard, he rammed the sword again into the ground, immobilizing and disarming his opponent. Lifting his finger from the blade, he drew it back and drove it into Ichigo's gut. The Ki-hardened finger severely damaged his intestines for the _second_ time that day.

Ichigo's eyes widened with pain, as his body lifted off the ground, and flew into a rock, ever so conveniently placed behind him.

 _Fuck…_

He peeled off the rock like the animated character that he was, and fell to the ground, gasping for air. The crash had hurt his chest as well. As he gathered his thoughts, he realized that even Bankai wasn't going to be enough on this freak. _Maybe a full power Getsuga Tensho in Bankai would help…_

He rose slowly, shaking his head to clear the spots in his blurred vision. Grasping his shoulder with his left arm, he dove into his well of concentration.

 _BAN…KAI!_

* * *

Goku watched as Ichigo repeated his previous transformation. His power rose to around seven times its previous level. _The same as before._ Although, this time it seemed different. A little more tumultuous, a little more malignant, a little more _evil._

 _Something bad is going to happen, but I don't know what or why…_

Goku readied himself. Ichigo had finished transforming, and had already powered up his next attack. His now completely black sword shone with a black aura. The edges of the aura were crimson. Goku watched on as the boy savagely swung his sword, releasing a fan on energy towards him.

Goku steadied himself, and held out his finger. Bending it again, he stood prepared to catch the attack. He observed it more closely as it approached him, and suddenly spasmed, taking his finger out of the way at the last nanosecond.

 _SHIT! That's powerful! Krillin's Destructo Disc wouldn't come close to this level of sharpness…_

As he watched the attack go past his face, he admired the Ki patterns. _Oh yeah. Definitely more random than before._

 _That little evil thing's getting stronger… or just coming to the surface._

He glanced to where Ichigo was. _Was._

 _DAMN!_

Goku parried Ichigo's killer thrust, finger straining to get there in time. He had not anticipated this. As he turned around, he wildly moved his finger around, appearing to the general populace as a crazy man trying to recreate the random motion of a bee in ultra-fast-forward.

He parried seven swings and three more thrusts before he had turned enough to face his opponent. He saw grim determination in Ichigo's eyes, and just a little…

 _Insanity? Evil? Confusion?_ Goku couldn't place the emotion lurking in the orange haired boy's eyes. Bending his back to dodge another swift swing, he continued his observation. The insanity was creeping out faster now. _Faster. Faster._

As the thing inside Ichigo came out, the faster his swings got. And, the faster his swings got, the faster the thing came out. A crazy vicious cycle. Parrying the fiftieth attack since the boy's transformation, Goku saw a hint of black flow across the white of Ichigo's eyeball.

 _Whatever it is, it's powering him up. Making him stronger. And, it's almost completely come out._

 _Better be ready…_

* * *

Ichigo noticed that he was proving to be more of a challenge to Goku in his Bankai. He was forced to pay continuous attention, and his finger was now moving at full speed to block all his attacks.

 _Nice going…_ He launched into another series of moves. First the uppercut, then a sideways swing, then a thrust, then a feint to the right and a double handed slam from above. All of his advances were fended off, but Ichigo sensed a sort of urgency in his opponent's style that wasn't there before.

Ichigo pushed harder. He swung _Tensa Zangetsu_ faster, with greater force than ever before. He took a commanding step forward. The match was going his way. He was going to start small, first get Goku to use _two_ fingers, then three, before proceeding to his hand, then arm, and then both arms.

 _One step at a time,_ he reminded himself. _No need to get ahead of myself._

And then, suddenly, he did.

 _What? What is this?_

Ichigo's swings got faster. Heavier. He was definitely pushing Goku back now. But they were faster than what he was consciously willing his _zanpakuto_ to achieve. Ichigo noticed a slight _reiatsu_ on the back of his sword.

 _Huh, using reiatsu to speed up swings? Not just to make my sword sharp. Interesting. I would never even have thought of that._

 _OF COURSE._

Ichigo's blood ran cold. _That_ mental voice was not his. The screeching, taunting voice pattern could only belong to…

 _EXACTLY! I NOW HAVE CONTROL OVER YOUR REIATSU, YOU DUMBASS FOOL!_

Ichigo was now genuinely scared. That guy had made threats aplenty before this, but actually taking over his _reiatsu_ … That was a new level of power.

 _NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_ Ichigo screamed, fighting both the guy inside his head and outside at the same time. It was too late, though. The Hollow inside him had taken over his _reiatsu_ flow completely now, and was controlling all of _Tensa Zangetsu's_ movements. It wouldn't be long before it took over his mind completely.

 _DAMN IT! I was afraid this would happen, but I still released my Bankai. I must fight this idiot off before he does some permanent damage to Tensa Zangetsu._

 _DON'T WORRY, ICHIGO…_ The ringing voice was back. It laughed maniacally. _I WON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOUR BODY OR TO THE ZANPAKUTO._

Ichigo was losing consciousness fast. His fading mind caught one last rhetorical question.

 _WHO'RE YOU CALLING AN IDIOT, DUMBASS?_

* * *

 _What is happening, exactly?_

Goku was completely confused. One moment, Ichigo was fighting well, _really_ well, then the next moment, he collapses and white plaster covers his face? Then the white plaster forms a mask and somehow increases his Ki even more? And then, he laughs like a psychopath and attacks again?

 _Man, I wish I could figure this mess out… Is Ichigo still sane? Has he turned completely evil due to that thing?_

Goku dodged another wild swing. Taking another step back, he parried the four hundredth blow. _Funny how I'm still keeping count…_

 _Whoa!_ Another strike, this time just missing his nose. The thing that was supposed to be Ichigo was surely pressing him now.

"Heh, heh, heh…" A soft snigger came from behind the mask. The voice was a mixture of Ichigo's usual baritone and the screech of something that lost its mind and soul a long time ago.

 _Kinda sounds like Frieza…_ Goku marvelled at the similarity. Not for long though. He glimpsed black, and raised his finger to block another thrust. This one was stronger than all the ones before.

Goku jumped back a few feet, and waited again. His opponent waited too. There was a tense pause. Suddenly, the masked Ichigo vanished.

 _What?_

Goku saw the slash a fraction too late. He jerked his head back violently, but couldn't dodge the move completely. The tip of the black sword nicked Goku's nose. Completing the slash, the creature jumped back, reared its head, and laughed/screeched again, the cacophony ringing throughout the valley and the surrounding hills.

Goku took that moment to glance back at where Gohan was sitting. He was still there, rooted to that spot by sheer fear. Otherwise, he seemed fine.

Making eye contact, Goku gave his son a meaningful glance. _All will be okay… I've just been fighting with one finger, after all…_

Gohan seemed to understand. He relaxed a little, and released his vice-like grip on his pants. Satisfied, Goku turned back to face his opponent. He seemed to have finished whatever he was doing, and seemed determined.

Goku shifted stances, and entered the basic martial arts pose, the first that Master Roshi had taught him all those years ago. That gave him extra stability, and granted him the advantage over his randomly slashing opponent.

The masked guy suddenly shifted. Goku focused harder. _There!_ Ninety degrees to the right. By the time Goku turned, he was already swinging, releasing a larger version of that energy arc from before. Goku twisted to dodge the arc, just like before. It flew on, powderising _another_ rock just behind him.

 _(Seriously. Why are all these random props so perfectly placed? Any missed attack hits them with unfailing accuracy. Maybe one_ should _aim at the rock, just to get one shot on target.)_

 _That's enough,_ thought Goku. _It's the mask that's causing all this trouble. Might as well destroy it and see what happens…_

He danced forward, shifting his weight from one foot to another, swaying to dodge the wildly swinging sword's Ki arcs. Ducking under one slash, he danced to dodge the thrust that followed. Slipping past the uppercut, he arrived within the sword's direct striking radius.

A screech of victory resounded through the surroundings, as his opponent got ready for a beheading stroke. Goku, though, had premeditated this. Using his finger to parry the stroke, he pushed the sword away, creating an opening. Bending his finger like the last time, he got it into the space between the mask and the face, and pulled upwards.

* * *

The mask ripped off Kurosaki Ichigo's face, but very reluctantly. Ichigo heard the Hollow scream, as his presence diminished again, and as he regained control of his own body. He felt reverberations throughout his soul. The worst was over.

Or was it? This time, mask did not crumble away completely. A tiny chink of it held on stubbornly, refusing to fall off. Ichigo moved to flick it off his face, like an errant fly. As soon as he touched the fragment...

 _SHIT!_

He was falling. The darkness around seemed absolute. He fell onto a floor as hard as stone and crumpled into a shihakusho-covered heap. Regaining consciousness a minute later, he sat up.

The air was thick. It was like a hyperbaric chamber of secrets. A distinct keening provided the background score, completing the fearful scenario.

"Anyone there?" Ichigo called out pointlessly. Who the heck would even care to enter his own fantasy?

Ichigo was suddenly bent down and faceplanted into the ground. He screamed, as his skull began to give way between the hand on its back and the stone in front. With a will boen out of desperation, he mentally shut out the cause of his distress.

 _THIS IS MY SUBCONSCIOUS. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY MIND!_

And, as suddenly as it had arrived, the pressure doubled. Ichigo screamed louder, if it was even possible. He heard a _CRACK! a_ nd realized that the bone had finally quit n' split.

( _Rhyme humour. The author has been severely chastised for this, rest assured_ )

Ichigo's despair reached its crescendo. _It's all over..._

And he was back.

 _What just happened?_ He seemed to be in a cave. A highly modern cave, it seemed. It was completely bare except for one chair, one table, and one TV remote.

Everything in the room was white. _Just like that Hollow Zangetsu asked me to fight..._ Ichigo reminisced. PLEASE TURN ON... said a white note on the table. The letters written on the note were white as well, but somehow Ichigo knew what they were. (DUH)

He tried to reach the table, but stumbled and fell. Bracing himself by putting his arms out in front, he expected a jarring sensation as he hit the ground. His arms touched the white floor. Ichigo felt nothing. Just the feeblest of sensations of touching the ground.

Hmm... Let's check it out... He got up, and punched himself in the face. _A pinch might have been better,_ he thought as the punch landed. _Oh! Never mind._

Only the same, almost nonexistent feeling of touch appeared again. So that was settled. He could not feel pain in this dimension. Or rather, his mind _did not want_ him to feel pain in this dimension.

 _That's quite cool... What next?_ His gaze drifted over to the remote. Making a determined effort not to fall this time, he took one step towards the table. Then another, and another. It got easier with each progressive step, until finally, he was next to the chair.

 _All right, let's sit._ Unfortunately, his ass hadn't gotten used to sitting yet, and released hold too early. He plopped down right where he was standing. Cursing, he got up yet again. Gingerly, he positioned his ass above the chair, and let go. _There._

Taking the remote into his hands, he pressed the only button on it. _Not much of a choice, eh?_

The white wall in front of him disintegrated. It was like he was suddenly placed inside his own eyes, near the retinas. He was being a third-person view of what had been his first-person view only moments ago.

The view was not good. Goku stood in front of him, intent and anger showing on his face as clearly as the fact that he was orange-haired. However, the view was color-distorted. The reds seemed a little enhanced, and the blues subdued, like he was watching the entire thing out of a slightly red colored glass plate.

Sound, too. He heard everything that was going on outside, partway between between what his ears usually heard directly, and a what a mid-range bitrate mp3 song sounded like. Even that seemed different. The lower, more bass notes were louder than the higher-pitched ones. Even the rustle of the grass had an ominous depth about it.

The combined effect was like being in a really shitty theater. _Man, I thought my mind was better than this..._

Frivolities over, Ichigo got around to the pressing matter at hand. How was he going to get his body back, and how was he going to do that before either Goku, Gohan or his own body got seriously injured?

He was fairly certain that Goku would show restraint, but the same couldn't be said for that faggot Hollow pulling all the strings inside his body.

 _Well, the lack of pain was probably given so I could think... Someone inside my screwed-up subconscious is looking out for me._ With that last off-topic thought, Ichigo got down to plan his return.

* * *

Meanwhile, Son Goku couldn't believe his _freaking_ eyes. _What the heck is that?_ In the span of just thirty seconds, Goku had gone from to confident to relieved to completely flabbergasted. It was like he'd jumped out of a frying pan placed over an erupting volcano.

Not exactly pee-in-your-pants news for the Saiyan, but who willingly invites trouble like this? Instantly, he had his answer. _Vegeta._ That idiot would have probably provoked the mentally unstable boy to transform even further.

Well, I probably shouldn't be using the term 'boy' any more... For this was a boy no more. A fully formed, perfectly detailed skull mask now covered Ichigo's face. Instead of negative colour eyes, now shone two reddish yellow coals of menace. Two deadly horns curved downward and in front, from the forehead part of the mask. They seemed malignant at best, and pure _motherflippin'_ insane in general.

Also, Ichigo's hair had grown into a wild orange mass, bursting out behind his mask in a haphazard fashion. It added to the madness of the general visage, creating an almost perfectly scary countenance. And then came the hole. Right in the centre of his chest, there now was a hole. It was see-through, like the flesh there had been burnt off by a high-power laser burst, self-cauterizing the wound.

In its hand was the sword which Ichigo had been using. It's previously benign jet-black blade now had a dark crimson glow to it that screamed of madness and malevolence. Despite the view, Goku was still calm inside. _Well, his power's still at a manageable level, and I probably should..._

The rest of the thought was lost into the void as the thing palmed Goku's face like a basketball and threw him to the ground. His head bounced off the ground once, and fell back. Goku was shocked. It was incredible how fast that thing had moved, to catch _him_ off guard. It now seemed to be waiting, and watching. It had it's horns poised over Goku's chest, and was waiting to just drive them clean through.

The silence seemed to say, y _ou make one wrong move, and you're finished..._

Goku, too, waited. For he was racking his brains to come up with a way to attack or defend without the thing's horns impaling him.

 _Think, Goku..._ Ichigo screamed inside his mental prison.

 _THINK!_

Suddenly, a scream pierced the silence. Ichigo recognized the voice.

"DADDY!"

Ichigo's stomach knotted with despair, as he saw Goku involuntarily react to the scream, and glance momentarily at his son. Hollow guy sensed his opportunity. Goku seemed to have realized his mistake, and his eyes were slowly travelling back to focus on his opponent.

 _Too late._ Hollow guy had already attacked.

The deadly horns fell, then stopped, an inch from the _Kame_ symbol on Goku's back. Goku's tremendous arm strength had protected him, yet again. Even in the awkward position, they just held off the finishing hit. With a loud grunt, Goku heaved, and sent the creature stumbling back. Quickly jumping up, he resumed his fighting stance.

He stole a quick glance at his son, ensuring that he was perfectly shielded from the enemy by Goku's own body. He stared into Gohan's frantic eyes, and sent a _Don't worry_ expression, or as close as he could manage. The result was surprisingly similar to that of a constipated Oolong.

Returning to the fight for real, he saw that the thing had now entered into a sword fighting pose. It's form was weak, but the aura of malignant confidence it gave out more than made up for it.

Both parties were ready to strike.

Goku smirked internally. This little training exercise had turned out to be quite interesting after all.

 _I look forward as to what comes next._

 _Amaze me, evil creature!_

* * *

 **You have no idea how sorry I am that this chapter took so long.**

 **Here's hoping that the next few will be more frequent.**

 **But anyway, what do you think?**

 **Satisfied yet? Should I go back to the Trunks storyline? Tell you about Kai?**

 **Or should I continue here, and finish off this fight?**

 **Your choice. Whether or not to have an opinion on this.**

 **I'm writing this story, after all...**

 **Just kidding.**

 **Decent reviews will be welcome.**

 **Peace out.**


	7. The Fight - Final

**And, roll credits.**

 **Just messin' around.**

 **The story's far from over.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVEN : THE FIGHT - FINAL**

* * *

Trunks ducked underneath his opponent's savage thrust. He knew that a rising counter was useless; the guy wasn't going to defend himself. Quite the contrary. He was the type who accepted self-sacrifice if it let him land a strike in return. _Psycho, if you ask me..._

He just waited on his haunches, and dodged the next strike by bunny-hopping to his left. The dented, scarred weapon hummed as it moved down. _Even his sword's singing._ Hair-bells guy was gently purring a complex tune as he fought, like a content cat getting a belly rub.

 _Just who are these strong fighters? And why am I fighting them?_ The question that had been bugging his subconscious rose into the crystal clear sphere of concentration he maintained while he was in his Super Saiyan state.

 _I don't remember why... didn't a guy tell me these people were evil?_ His memories from just half an hour ago seemed extremely foggy. He barely remembered living them, forget what anybody had said to him.

 _WHOOPS!_ Bells-guy slashed as his feet. Driving his sword vertically down, he got in between his opponent's and his foot. He had to concentrate here, in reality. Bells-guy drew back, and viciously thrust his body forward.

 _Ain't good enough..._ Stepping back, he raised his sword back up, expecting a metallic clang. He heard nothing. Just then, he noticed the lack of a sword in his opponent's right hand. It was in the air, in its initial place. It hadn't moved. Just the hand.

Trunks connected the dots. _If the sword isn't held in the right hand, then it's..._

He saw the scythe-like uppercut just moments before impact, and turned his entire body sideways to make room for its motion. The blade swung upwards, and left his opponent's hand.

Curling in a lazy arc, it dropped down. Bells-guy jumped up to catch it. Using the height advantage, he hacked downwards, going for the helmbreaker. Trunks got his sword up in time, deflecting the blow.

His opponent's smile curled up further. _Man, he loves this way too much._ Quickly hopping backwards, he let the next three slashes pass harmlessly in front of him.

 _I have to attack, or this could go on forever._

He threw his own sword up, and caught his opponent's next swing barehanded. He ignored the stab of pain and the jarring sensation, and pulled bells-guy closer. Using the same motion, he smashed his forehead into his face.

The bones in Trunks' skull creaked as neither he nor his opponent gave in. Then, a slight crack escaped as the cartilage of the nose broke. That was followed by successive cracks as his entire face crumpled.

Without pausing, Trunks threw his opponent's arms upwards, revealing the torso. Using a succession of well-placed, powerful punches, he decimated bells-guy's vital organs. Enough to incapacitate, not kill. No matter what his Saiyan side or the little tinny voice telling him to do this might say, he wasn't going to kill someone who wasn't confimed evil.

Raising his right palm, he shot a Ki blast right into the torso, sending his opponent careening towards the nearest skyscraper.

 _That's all, folks..._ Memories of an old cartoon came back to him. One he'd watched at home, resting his head in the comfort of his mother's lap. He shook his head, driving away the nostalgia.

He still hadn't heard the crash. _He's supposed to have hit that building by now... What?_ Bells-guy had stopped himself, and was coming back.

Trunks resignedly unsheathed his sword. _Round infinity and one begins..._

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi was in heaven, so to speak. As the steady flow of strikes resumed, his sense of elation rose to almost painful levels, erasing everything in the world apart from him, his sword, and his opponent. Nothing else mattered. This was where he belonged. Not as a pitiful Captain of some random-ass punks fighting everything that moved, nor in the shambles of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

He existed solely to fight. And this fateful day, his dearest wish had come true. Everything was forgotten; his past, his memories, emotions, expressions, thoughts. He was one with his sword.

 ** _FINALLY._**

 _Wait, what?_

Inside the void that had surrounded him, a voice had spoken. Relief was plain in its very sound, very similar to that of one released from 10000 years of exile by the Central 46.

Kenpachi was confused. The voice was both alien and familiar to him, a weird mixture of the two. Though he'd never heard it before, he felt like he knew who it belonged to. He could almost recall that particular entity's name. It was on the tip of his tongue.

He tried desperately. Tried extremely hard, tried to remember that one name. He did not know why he was attempting to recall it, but in the state he was in, reasons were not given for any action, and neither did they matter.

 ** _So, you can't remember. Just as I thought..._** the voice seemed resigned. Like this was what it had been expecting. _Fuck you! Tell me already!_ Kenpachi felt neither anger nor frustration. This was simply how he asked _anyone_ for anything at all.

 ** _I've waited for so long, to finally find you in this state. Now, we are alone together, and my wait is over._**

Despite the emotionless void, Kenpachi groaned. _Is this retard ever going to fucking get to the damn point? And why does his last statement sound like the ending of a romance movie?_

This was going to be one hell of a wait. _Fuck...my...life..._

* * *

Urahara Kisuke was bored. For the last five minutes, nobody had moved. The Head Captain still stared at the boy's sword, mouth open and drooling. Kenpachi had stopped attacking ruthlessly and was sitting cross-legged in the air, holding his _zanpakuto_ in his hands.

The boy was simply looking at all three of them in turn, thoroughly confused. _I don't blame him. One moment he's finishing off some huge-ass rape troll of the 13 Squad Captains, and the next, his last opponent simply stops giving a fuck and ignores him? Sad..._

He let out an enormous yawn, showing to the world how little he cared about this entire situation. But inside, his genius brain was already laying the finishing touches to yet another plan, and then scrapped it.

He scratched his head nonchalantly, and then glanced meaningfully at the black cat on the ground below them. _Wait,_ it's golden eyes seemed to say. He was fed up of waiting. From his repertoire, he selected an approach. Gave Yoruichi another glance. _Screw this, I'm going in._

"So, uh, what's your name?"

* * *

 _HE WAITS UNTIL NOW TO MAKE SMALL TALK? WHAT THE FUCK?_

Trunks' mind was starting to overheat. He'd had more than his fair goddamn share of shocks today. Randomly waking up (alone) in somebody else's bed, being held over a toilet seat by a juvenile, violent man, suddenly seeing hotness personified, then leaving her behind to decimate some violent, expletive shouting dumbass with blue hair, then having a hazy conversation with some random stranger, and suddenly being thrust into a massacre, with freaks wielding some kickass swords charging at him.

If that much wasn't enough, he also had to deal with his multiple personality disorder, the strain of time travel, the tension of never making it back home, and the fucking humiliation of having an opponent suddenly ditch you and meditate on the battlefield.

To top it all, he was now chitchatting with the very same group that was determined to kill him minutes ago. He'd rather get caught flirting with Android 18, than live through this.

Still, there was no going back, at least for now. With a huge effort of will, he calmed himself, and went back to his normal state. All the damage he'd taken in the previous battle royale now came back in full force. He felt deflated, with the cool clear Super Saiyan state no longer shielding him from the aftereffect of Byakuya's attack.

Still, he took a deep breath, and relaxed himself. "The name's Trunks."

"Urahara Kisuke. _Yoroshiku..."_ The man doffed his green-and-white hat, showing his unruly blonde hair. "It appears as though five of our finest were no match for you. That is certainly impressive."

Trunks had the grace to look sheepish. "I dunno, I was just lucky, I guess... But, hey! Your fifth guy is still mostly fine, save for the fact that he's completely ignoring me right now..."

"He has probably had a revelation, because of the intensity with which he fought." Urahara explained. Meeting your _zanpakuto_ for the first time was a different experience for everybody, unique to their personality and their _zanpakuto's._ "He'll probably be much stronger once he gets up. It might take a while, though..."

Trunks' face showed respect for the 11th squad Captain. "Stronger, huh? That's amazing. I'd like to fight him again sometime, before I return..." he mused. Urahara caught the last part. "What was that about you returning somewhere?"

The boy seemed hesitant to reply. "Do not worry. I am merely a researcher. I just want to know how you got here. You simply appeared out of nowhere. That doesn't usually happen without you knowing about it, and also knowing what went wrong. So tell me. What device did you use to get here? Was it your intention to get here, or did the device malfunction?"

There was a long pause. _Maybe I pushed too hard..._ Urahara thought.

"I come from the future."

* * *

Urahara's eyes bulged. The boy had taken another pause, probably to let it sink in. "In my time, everything is different. The houses we live in, the vehicles we drive, the food we eat... We have succeeded in miniaturizing everything into small spaces, and store it in capsules, previously called Dynacaps."

Urahara's mind was spinning. Trunks' claims were outrageous at best. _It is possible to travel through time? "_ How did you get here?" he finally managed to say.

"I have no idea. The future I live in is dark, desolate, and controlled by evil beings known as the Androids. These creatures have no consciences, no feelings. All they do is destroy everything and toy with the lives of innocent people. I am the last one left who has the chance to defend against their horrible strength. To prevent subsequent worlds from being destroyed, I used my mother's time machine, to try and prevent them from even being made. There was a thunderstorm on the day I was going to go back. I believe the electrical power surge blew away the time machine to some other time, leaving me stranded here."

Urahara could not believe what he was hearing. His brain was still stuck on the "I come from the future" part.

A retarded "Huh?" was all he could manage in reply.

"Anyway, I randomly happened to wake up in this guy's house. His dad's name was Kuroshiki, or something..."

Urahara had caught up. "Kurosaki. Kurosaki Isshin. Did you happen to notice a certain orange-haired teen with a tendency towards disrespect and violence?"

"No, no. His dad asked me what I'd done to him." Trunks shook his head. "I can see where that tendency comes from..."

Urahara merely nodded and sighed. "So, how did you end up fighting us?"

"I sensed some evil energy nearby. I thought they were the Androids. I thought me fighting them would give this town some time to evacuate before they... they killed everyone." He shook silently with suppressed rage.

"Continue with your story, it'll help ease the pain..." Urahara said gently.

"So I came and checked. There was this blue-haired retard wanting to challenge me. After I defeated him and his minions, a man came through a rent in the sky. He said his name was... uh..."

"Aizen Sosuke," said Urahara and Trunks at the same time.

 _Aizen. This changes everything,_ Urahara thought. _Now, nothing this boy says or does can be taken at face value. I'll have to be careful. This might be a way to stall for time._ Yet, his subconscious wanted to believe this harangued teenager, who claimed to be from the future.

"He said that anyone who asked me to suppress my power was an enemy from this evil place called Soul Society, and that I was to fight and kill them," Trunks continued.

 _Freaking genius. Using standard Soul Society protocol against us. That probably was enough to convince Trunks that everything Aizen had said was true. This makes it insanely hard to deal with him, from now on._

"Although, I didn't believe him." Urahara's ears pricked up. _What? Not believe him? How? With Kyoka Suigetsu's power... WAIT!_

"Did he show you his sword at any point of time? Even the tiniest hint of its blade?" Urahara's voice was urgent.

"Yeah. He probably thought I was an enemy, so he did partly unsheathe his sword, but when I didn't attack, he resheathed it and talked to me..."

Urahara was stunned. _Someone who has seen Kyoka Suigetsu doesn't completely believe Aizen? Despite all his senses being manipulated, this boy refuses to enter complete hypnosis... I don't know whether to believe him and be impressed, or still consider this part of Aizen's plan..._

"But I didn't believe that I should kill them just for asking me to reduce my power level. Hence, I didn't kill a single one. I simply incapacitated them. See for yourself."

 _He didn't follow Aizen's direct command, after hypnosis? How is this possible?_

 _Amazing. Simply amazing._

* * *

The wind had picked up in the last few minutes. It blew quite strongly now, ruffling the grass, where it still remained, creating dust clouds everywhere else. A little wisp tugged playfully at the single strand of hair Aizen Sosuke had left dangling down over his handsome face.

A smile parted his lips, and he seemed to the entire world like a man enjoying the fresh breeze. Seemed like that to everybody except those who knew him, of course. He watched as the black feline approached each of the defeated men's bodies, and examined them. He knew they weren't dead.

They weren't dead because he didn't want them dead. He knew about the boy's apprehensions towards killing. He had simply left that part of his personality untouched. He'd left a little defiance in him. Otherwise, what would be the fun?

 _A dead puppet is no fun. A puppet that still has hopes of escape is humorously unpredictable._ He smiled for the third time that fine day.

He'd smiled when he'd single-handedly revealed the pathetic state to which the Court Guards of Soul Society had fallen. Five Captain-class, five of the most elite warriors, whose job was to get as strong as possible to protect the haven for souls that was Soul Society, had failed miserably and fallen victim to a mere boy, one who was barely mature enough to appreciate Inoue Orihime when he met her.

Anyway, this apparent oversight of his had sent Urahara Kisuke's mind awhirl, as even the so-called genius failed to understand how someone could ignore a direct command under complete hypnosis. The smile grew wider, curling up towards Aizen's ears. Oh, how he enjoyed watching Urahara dance for him, like the sodden puppet that he was.

He watched Yoruichi walk up to the body furthest from the others, the one closest to him, that of Captain Hitsugaya. Seeing his damaged back, she let out a groan, which her cat form corrupted into a cute, if slightly constipated purr.

 _What is your mind working on, ex-Captain of the 2nd squad?_

It was a rhetorical question.

* * *

 _How does he figure into all this?_

Shihouin Yoruichi was racking her brains to figure out what role Aizen played in all this.

 _Except for the obvious part; this almost halves our total strength. No, no, if he was going to go all out, and use this boy to kill us, he would have told him to attack regardless of whether we attacked first. No, he has a different objective here. Leaving the boy to his own devices allows us to talk to him, to negotiate with him._

As she arrived at Captain Hitsugaya's unconscious form, she felt a deep despair flash in her mind. _If this guy continues to be our enemy, we're done for. So why didn't Aizen make him our enemy? What is he truly after?_

As Urahara continued conversation with the boy, Yoruichi checked Hitsugaya for any internal injuries. She was surprised, for it seemed like the attacks on him were done with surgeon-like precision. The boy had deftly avoided all vital organs, and had focused only on the parts that could be healed. _So he's telling the truth. He had the opportunity to kill, but he did not._

Her eyes drifted to the weapon used. The rod of ice lay shattered around the young Captain's body, but some pieces were still intact. Her eyes widened. _He inflicted such precise wounds with that? Colour me impressed..._

* * *

Urahara got Yoruichi's signal. None dead. He looked back at the slightly indignant boy. _I told you so_ was written all over his pouting face.

"Whoa. That's awesome, actually..." Urahara exclaimed. "Where did you learn such a fighting style?"

"My master taught it to me. His name was Gohan." Trunks' downcast eyes spoke for him. "He said the fighting style belonged to his father, Goku. He never killed anyone, not until he'd given his opponent every chance to back down."

Urahara had never heard of these people. Still, Trunks looked more comfortable now. He decided to push home the advantage. "Why don't you come with me to my shop? It's but a humble place, but we could have tea, and discuss this," he said.

He glanced at Yoruichi. She was still busy inspecting Hitsugaya, deep in thought. _She'll follow once she's done..._

Trunks looked hesitant for a moment, then his eyes cleared. "All right. Let's go."

* * *

Yoruichi heard the last part, and finally, something clicked. _Urahara's store... back door... training ground..._

 _FUCK!_

The Senkaimon. It was probably still open. What if Aizen's plan was to get the boy to the Senkaimon, to get him to enter Soul Society? The way the Head Captain had been ogling the sword, it probably had some extremely special powers. What if Aizen expects those to activate once the boy crosses over? _Crap._

 _I need to stop Urahara before it's too late._ She took a breath, ready to call out to him. Suddenly, a whispered incantation reached her ears.

 _SHIT! AIZEN!_

Before she knew it, she was rigid, stuck in some Binding Art. _Must be at least 80s level._

"Well, well. You realized it after all." It was a familiar voice, one that she feared and loathed. " It took you a little longer than I thought, but I do tend to give others more credit than they deserve..."

Aizen stood in front of her, gazing lazily into her eyes. Slowly, his eyes wandered over to where Urahara and the boy were leaving, now merely dots on the horizon. She saw him look at the Head Captain slowly shaking off his bewilderment, and smile the _fucking_ cocky smile he'd come to be known for.

"I am sorry, but I will not allow you to tell Urahara Kisuke what you know, not right now. Events must proceed according to a certain preordained pattern. News of the dangers of taking the sword so close to the Senkaimon must not become known until Trunks has been taken close enough, that is, to Urahara Kisuke's humble establishment."

 _So the sword is very important. Somehow, it relates to Aizen's overall plan. But how?_

"Oh?" Aizen's eyebrows rose. "Something tells me that you have figured out that the sword is crucial. But you do not know how." He paused for effect, looking deep into Yoruichi's eyes. "Very well. I shall tell you only because you will not tell Urahara Kisuke any time soon." He took a step back.

"I have reasons to believe that the sword currently in the possession of that young man is a legendary item of power in Soul Society. I also know that the item had been secretly removed from by a mysterious agency, allied with the Soul King, because of the potential destruction it could cause if mishandled. Also, I know that the power Trunks wields is not coming from the sword. It is his own reiatsu fuelling his movements, with his sword merely being a tool."

 _Just like Kenpachi over there..._

"This is because of the binding the agency placed over the _zanpakuto_ while transporting it out of Soul Society. The sword is said to remain dormant until it is returned to its original home, which is Soul Society. Also, I assume that the reiatsu released by the sword when activated is too great for any single entity to handle. This released _reiatsu_ will definitely cause the persons nearby to be vaporised, and will cause reverberations of an unprecedented scale in Soul Society."

Yoruichi was filled with dread. _If that happens, all the souls currently living there will be hurt badly; many will perish..._

"However," Aizen continued, "I shall not let such great energy go to waste." He produced from his pocket a small purplish stone, which seemed to radiate light. Yoruichi somehow managed to let out a strangled gasp. _The Hogyoku._

"I see; Urahara Kisuke must have shown it to you at some point. If you know what it is, I believe you can guess what I am going to achieve with it," Aizen completed the last part with a flourish, presenting the stone to her petrified face.

 _He plans to channel the enormous reiatsu output into the Hogyoku, activating it, thus giving himself a source of near-infinite power..._

"I admit that I initially planned to activate the Hogyoku much later, given the large need of reiatsu which I could only supply over a period of months. This is more than just a coincidence. The Hogyoku has started to accept my will, and convert it into reality. I wished for an early activation, and the means for that have been provided. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be in the correct position to channel the output. Until we meet again, or maybe not, Shihouin Yoruichi..."

And with that, Aizen Sosuke was gone.

Yoruichi stared at the only hope they had now.

 _Maybe even he doesn't know... then, we're doomed._

* * *

 _I must never let that happen to me again. Never._

Yamamoto Genryuusai took a quick look around. Of the previously raging battle, only Zaraki was left, meditating. _So the upstart has finally gotten to meeting his zanpakuto..._

He gave a start. He saw Shihouin Yoruichi in her feline form, stuck in what appeared to be a very high-level Binding Art. He understood immediately. _Aizen._ He sensed the _reiatsu_ from Code 1. It had reduced considerably, and was heading straight for the Senkaimon.

 _It's probably Urahara who has taken him there_ , thought the Head Captain, immediately flash-stepping towards the store. _Kai mustn't be allowed so near to the Gate, and Soul Society._ He remembered what the previous Head Captain had said to him.

 _"Never allow the zanpakuto to be stolen, or to be taken into the real world. Or if by some chance, it happens to leave Soul Society, do not allow it to re-enter. There is a very high risk that the sword will become uncontrollable, and annihilate Soul Society entirely."_

The Head Captain shivered mentally as he used a series of quick flash-steps to get closer to the two ahead of him.

 _I only hope that it is not too late._

* * *

 **"DRINK. NOZARASHI."**

Zaraki Kenpachi rose. His mind had entered a state of peace. It had taken some doing, but he'd finally gotten the name of his _zanpakuto_. Now, it was like he knew it better than anything else in the world, save Yachiru. He savoured the feeling of success for another moment, then opened his eyes. He'd left his last fight unfinished, and now he hungered for more.

He stared into quite the anticlimax. There was no one there. He gazed around, searching. After a while he realized he'd just been the victim of a massive friendzone. He grimaced.

"Where are you, boy?" The grimace turned into a maniacal grin that seemed to split his face into two. He stared out into the distance, where the sun had just begun to set.

"Never mind. I will find you, and when I do, I will win."

* * *

 **And that's all, folks...**

 **"Fuck this cliche-dropping bitch!"**

 **I heard that! But yeah, I kinda deserve it.**

 **That's all, folks? Seriously?**

 **The Looney Tunes are sick of this, man...**

 **Never mind.**

 **Tell me what you guys think. Every review counts.**

 **Peace out.**


	8. The Wall

**I'm back, bit**es!**

 **Again, let me apologize for the time this thing's taking.**

 **My bad.**

 **Let the livening up of your otherwise humdrum lives begin.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT : THE WALL**

The evil creature did amaze. One savage sprint got it up close and personal, and the black blade was slicing off Goku's head before he could even think 'Chi-Chi'. Goku bowed down and backwards, simultaneously blocking a knee thrust with his forearm.

An instant later, he was rolling to his right, the crimson edged sword screaming as it bore down with enormous force. This guy was impatient, maybe even a little urgent. As he coursed through another series of wild, lashing sword strokes, Goku wondered whether it was the last embers of a dying flame, how it always burns brightest when its existence is about to be extinguished.

 _I probably should wait for it to burn itself out…_ Right then, the thing got even stronger. Energy levels at an all-time high, it renewed its attack, raining lethal slices, uppercuts and crossguard slashes down on the Saiyan warrior.

 _Or maybe not… I may need to go on the offensive._ This was a dire problem. Short as their time together was, Goku had already bonded with the orange haired _shonen_ , and still had hope for recovering the boy from this mire.

He remembered the last known way to reboot the boy's system, and used it. Staggering his steps to dodge a horizontal slash, he leaped forwards and up, hooking his fingers between the boy's face and the mask. He pulled as hard as he could. He didn't expect much resistance, and didn't encounter any. It came away in his hand, white and crimson skull smiling at the folly of the world, eyes now lifeless holes.

He landed, already turning to face his handiwork. What he saw was not good.

The mask had already reformed. And the thing was already launching a _Getsuga-_ whatever at him. Kneeling while continuing the skid, the Saiyan let the scythe pass millimetres above his spiky hair, and waited for the correct timing. _There!_ He backflipped, tearing the mask off for the second time. Craning his neck, he looked at the mask already beginning to reform, and saw the white plaster-like thingy cover his face. For an instant, he saw Ichigo's normal, brown eyes looking at him.

 _Keep going!_ They seemed to say.

* * *

"Keep going!" Ichigo was on his feet, shouting at the image of Goku, the only thing of interest in the featureless room. Whatever he was doing, it was working. The repeated removal of the mask had diminished the Hollow's overwhelming presence.

He had also noticed another thing. His limited _reiatsu_ was being used up at an alarming rate. The Hollow most probably hadn't noticed it, but this entire world contained no _reiatsu_ except what was in him. Since there was no steady flow like in Soul Society, he reasoned that his Hollow form must have a time limit. Goku was reducing that time limit further by ripping off the mask. It took a heavy toll to replace that mask, but without it, the Hollow couldn't maintain control of Ichigo's mind, body, and hence _reiatsu_. He just hoped that Goku could hold him off for long enough before it caused any major damage.

Goku was holding him off, very easily, it seemed. This sudden flood of realization had considerably calmed the orange-haired _shonen,_ and he'd just begun to design furniture for his mental prison in his mind (inside his mind), when his legs suddenly gave way. He crumpled down to the floor, unable to move. A slight tingling was all he could feel. A near complete weakness had come over him. He tried desperately to move something. Anything. Fear and sheer panic were creeping up on the borders of his consciousness, threatening to take away his sanity.

 _What's happening now?_

 _Somebody help me!_

* * *

Goku's mind, now set on a trajectory, focused all its efforts into just one thing. Take off the mask. As many times as needed. It was like nothing could stop him. He spun to his right to dodge an uppercut, and deftly ripped the mask off with his right hand.

Another had already formed on the thing's face before the one in Goku's hand had time to crumble. Still, Goku, with his heightened senses, had notice the slight time delay before it regenerated. A time delay that wasn't there before.

Without pausing a single beat, he launched into a ferocious offensive. Pushing the sword away forcefully with his arm, he punched the mask right in the centre, in the nose. He felt the plaster-like substance crack beneath his knuckles, and fall away from Ichigo's face. He watched the pieces crumble into dust, and then further into nothing. He kept his fist near the face a millisecond too long. The mask regrew, a swirling mass of liquid plaster that covered his fingers, and hardened.

Goku stiffened. Through the corner of his eye, he saw the anthracite sword slide towards him, tuned reflexes reducing the deadly motion to a crawl, as if the air itself had become viscous. The muscles in the sword arm were bulged, and he could see the heart beat as a slow pulse travelling across his bicep, slowly branching out, filling out with blood.

He noticed that the creature was going for the kill. Goku viciously grabbed the thing's wrist with his free arm, and used its own momentum to smash the sword hilt into the mask, right next to his hand. Before the mask even had time to crack completely, he pulled his hand out, and jumped clear. He assumed a wary, cautious stance, aware that one mistake could be fatal. The next few attacks he tried out, it blocked all of them with swings clearly meant to protect its face. He couldn't get to the mask without having to deal with the sword first.

 _Looks like he's onto me…_ From his wide arsenal, Goku selected a different move. He rushed at Ichigo head on, dodged under the blade, jumped, and rolled, such that his hand was free to remove the mask. This time, though, the creature knew. It brandished a crazy uppercut that was at Goku's arm almost in an instant. Goku too, was prepared.

His other hand was at his forehead, two fingers touching the sweat-covered arch. That gesture wasn't really necessary, but it helped him concentrate. He pictured the location in his mind, calculated the distance to that point, then launched. The uppercut almost got there. It passed through a shimmering afterimage of Goku's wrist. His entire body had been converted to electromagnetic radiation using Ki. It sped downwards at the speed of light, and for the tiny distance it needed to cover, it seemed instantaneous.

Goku reached where he wanted, then used his Ki to recreate his body from the light, in the perfect position, directly under the thing's face, fingers actually materializing around the edge of the mask. It was a simple thing to then just rip it off.

 _Rinse, then repeat..._

* * *

Ichigo felt another wave of weakness crash over his prone body, and almost lost his sense of self right there and then. The half-formed theory in his head just slipped out again, before it could breach his subconscious. He knew he could figure out what was happening; maybe he had already figured it out. He just couldn't remember. Something about the mask being removed was affecting him as well, not just the Hollow.

It was something to do with reiatsu, he was sure. Or maybe the lack of it? Then, in the slipping confines of his prisoned consciousness, he put shihakusho and zanpakuto together. He was here in soul form, or some equivalent. He was a being of pure _reiatsu_. Which meant that the weaker his _reiatsu_ got, his body got that much weaker. The hollow seemed like it was going to finish it off. This meant no reiatsu, and conclusively, no body.

What was being done to free him was also killing him. There was no way out. The Hollow would never realize that soon enough, if not never. Goku couldn't possibly figure this out. He couldn't do anything but lie there. So, either he died, or he died. Pretty dismal hopes.

 _NO! I WONT DIE HERE!_ He refused to give up, like the stubborn retard that he was. He focused, and tried to wrestle back control of his dwindling _reiatsu._ It was futile. The Hollow had too strong a hold. He had to try a different angle. He circled the black wall keeping him away from his _reiatsu_ flow. It seemed impregnable, a veritable fortress.

As he continued searching, he sensed the presence of another wall, one which he'd never seen before. _This is completely new._ Carefully, he tried to measure its strength. It was surprisingly thin, barely concealing a diffused light source coming from the inside. He knew he could break through this one. He didn't know how, precisely, he just felt it. Throwing all his mental strength at the block, he tried to crack his way through. It gave way, a minuscule response to his push.

Another massive wave of lethargy hit him, and he reeled, teetering on the edge of blacking out. He knew that passing out here would mean certain death. Gathering all his focus, he surged again towards the crack.

This time he used the spiritual equivalent of ramming a door open with his shoulder. And he was right. It was a door, not a wall. The crack was the jamb of the door, giving him a glimpse of the power that lay surging within. As he crashed through, he realized that the wall wasn't thin. It was huge. The door opened out to a tunnel, surrounded by the wall.

All this was suddenly replaced by a flood of bluish-white light, followed by a pressure that pushed him out of the doorway, and spilled out after him. And suddenly, he was floating in an ocean of the bluish-white substance, and pure energy coursed through his mind.

He knew he didn't need _reiatsu_ anymore. He had struck a huge well of some other energy.

And that was going to explode him out.

* * *

 _Just what is the source of this thing's power?_ Goku had been pondering this question ever since the fight began. Ever since Ichigo fought Vegeta, actually. He seemed to be exuding an incredible amount of energy, but it seemed so _different._ He couldn't sense it, or measure it in any way. It was like a big stream of nothingness fuelling his maniacal swordplay.

He'd gauged the relative level by the pressure it applied, though, and it had been steadily reducing since the very beginning. It reduced even faster when the boy transformed, and was now being eaten up rapidly by the creature as well. Every time he took off the mask, the pressure dropped another few notches.

Using Instant Transmission had made it almost too easy. No matter how fast its reflexes, its sword couldn't move as fast as light. He'd continually ripped away at the energy reservoir, and was being rewarded with some definite results. One, the thing had definitely realized its limited supply. Its usage had dropped, and as a direct consequence, its fighting strength had also fallen.

Goku simply shoved the sword aside like it was an errant fly, and went for the punch finish this time. Before it landed, the thing's energy suddenly grew five hundredfold in an instant, and steadily rose after that. This was new. This was the energy he was used to. He could definitely sense this power. It was Ki, all right.

And what humongous Ki it was. It definitely compared to his output in Kaioken times two, to say the very least. _Crap, this could be much more difficult now. I can't go Super Saiyan now. It would be difficult not to hurt him in my transformed state. I have to protect Gohan too. He wasn't there on Namek either._

Strangely, the creature's mask eyes now seemed to have a hint of confusion and fear in them. Not confidence. Fear. Although dwarfed by the Ki, the unknown substance still was being used. As it surged towards him, a primal scream escaped its white lips. Goku's hackles rose, it was menacing.

It threw itself at him in a haphazard attack pattern, driving Goku back with sheer random force. He couldn't maintain his position, because he couldn't premeditate the attacks anymore. Every diagonal slash was followed by a rash, inefficient thrust, from the least favorable stance, and then the sword was drawn back in a feint, continuing into an awkward spin. The sword nearly slipped out of the thing's hand, as it still continued its weird, panicked pattern.

Goku simply leaned and hopped back, casually dodging all the swings, until one wasn't one. It was the scythe again. He bent over backwards until his back was parallel to the ground, Matrix-style. He let it pass above his chest, and followed it with his eyes, until his heart stopped.

It was heading straight at Gohan, and from almost point blank range. Time seemed to slow as the black-and-crimson crescent first touched his son's torso. He watched in agonizing, adrenalin-fuelled slow-motion as it soaked into Gohan's chest, lifting him from the ground, upwards and back, his back arching due to the inertia.

He saw the crisis of faith in his son's eyes.

 _You said you'd protect me…_

* * *

Before he knew it, he had transformed. Turning, and pushing off the ground with immense force, he skimmed over the near still grass, and reached his son's body. Passing under it, he jumped again, vertically this time. He felt Gohan crash into him, dulled into a constantly increasing pressure by his senses.

He flew back along with his son, and willed himself to slow the motion down. He gradually brought himself and Gohan to a stop, inches from yet another conveniently placed rock. A quick examination showed that he was hurt pretty bad. Blood was already seeping out of the crack in the Saiyan armor.

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw the thing already running towards them, sword releasing another black attack. Goku's aquamarine eyes burned with incandescent rage. Keeping his hurt son down, he threw a fierce energy punch, right into the scythe. It shattered, dissipating into nothing.

He drove blindly ahead, and braced his left arm with his right hand. Pushing hard off his right foot, he crashed his elbow into his opponent's chest. He hadn't held back. He felt ribs crack, felt the sternum crumple inwards, felt broken bone pierce lung tissue, and realized his error. In a moment of anger, he'd probably ended Ichigo's life.

He didn't care. All he wanted was to check on Gohan. He didn't even see Ichigo fall down to the ground; he didn't see the mask crack, seemingly on its own. He had already turned and reached his son's side.

He tore off the armor like so much aluminium foil, and checked the wound, fearing the worst. He exhaled heavily, releasing his built up tension like air from a burst balloon. His hair returned to black, and fell down to its usual pointy state. He closed his eyes. It was a deep wound, but no major organs were injured. Gohan would need a whole Senzu bean for this.

He rummaged in the space between his blue belt and his orange Gi, and found two Senzu beans. Dropping one into his son's open mouth, he helped him chew, moving his jaw up and down. He felt him swallow, and then drew back. Gohan's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around like nothing had happened.

"Daddy! Ichigo needs one too!" were the first words he said. Goku smiled. His son was perfect the way he was. Leaving his side, he walked over to Ichigo's resting place. His eyes widened. _Ichigo_ was conscious. Broken bits of what had been a mask were scattered around his face and orange hair.

His mouth was red with coughed-up blood, but he was smiling. "I-I-I'm back…" he said, going into another round of coughs. Goku put the last of his beans into his mouth, and Ichigo chewed and swallowed amidst another cough.

Within a few seconds, he was back on his feet, feeling his healed chest gingerly, and amazement showed clearly on his face. "That bean rocks, man! Thanks, by the way,"

Goku nodded. "I couldn't have broken free if your kick-ass shot hadn't nearly incapacitated him," Ichigo continued.

"Now, now… Let's not go into thank-yous so quickly. That's all in the past, now." Goku smile was broader now. "Who was that thing, Ichigo? You must know, what with how well it knew your body,"

Ichigo frowned. "Frankly, I've got no inkling," he scratched his head. "It simply felt like an evil alter-ego to me, like some part of me wanted chaos and destruction. It seems like it's gone for good, however. Also, I got this new source of energy that suddenly appeared inside my mind. I don't know what it is, or how to use it. Whatever I did to break out was intuitive. I have no idea how to control it, or use it voluntarily."

Goku grinned his trademark goofy grin. "I know what it is, Ichigo. It's the energy I use. It's called Ki. I can definitely train you now, and teach you some cool moves. So, what do you say?"

Ichigo returned the goofy smile.

 _I can't wait, Goku._

As the setting sun cast long, stretched-out shadows over the meadows of East District 439, the unusual trio suddenly gave a start and clutched their stomachs. A distant rumble sounded inside both fighters' stomachs. "But dinner first. I'm simply ravenous," Ichigo said.

"You're a man after my own heart, Ichigo. Come on, Gohan! Tomorrow, our training begins for real!"

Gohan smiled too, and rose up into the air. Goku followed, and stopped. "HEY! Teach me that!" Ichigo protested.

Goku chuckled. "As your first exercise, you will find your way back on your own. See ya!"

Ichigo's curses were muffled by the _whoosh_ of the two Saiyans flying off.

* * *

 _That BASTARD!_

Vegeta was furious. The clearing he had been watching from now lay levelled around him, a result of a subconscious temper tantrum. He had seen Kakarot pause for just a second, give him a meaningful glance, and fly away with his idiot son.

 _First that Earthling freak, and now even Kakarot? How FUCKING embarrassing could this day get?_

 _You shall see, Kakarot. You. Shall. See._

 _I will get stronger. I will transform._

 _I will reclaim my pride._

 _Just...you...wait._

* * *

 **Obviously, Vegeta now goes to that random piece of space rock and does transform.**

 **Ichigo will now learn all Goku has to offer.**

 **A tunnel, though? Why not the entire flow?**

 **Who built that wall in the first place?**

 **So many fu**ing unanswered questions.**

 **Do not fear, mortals. I have all the answers.**

 **Just wait. A little Trunks first.**

 **Peace out.**


	9. The Revelation

**Sorry about that long, long delay.**

 **If you knew about the block I've faced, you'd empathise.**

 **Anyway, forget that.**

 **Time to go back to some Trunks.**

 **Ichigo's training can wait.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE : THE REVELATION**

* * *

Urahara Kisuke's mind was filled with premonition. He was nervous. Quite the uncommon emotion for the sand-haired ex-Shinigami, though he usually exuded an air of hesitation and clumsiness. Any situation involving Aizen Sousuke was, of course, a thing to worry about.

There were definitely going to be subtleties, complications, twists, turns and maybe even deaths in his grand scheme of things, Urahara was sure of it. No matter what, they were going to be five steps behind, and that too because the mastermind behind the whole scene wished it to be so. As he led the unknown visitor to his humble store of Shinigami trinkets, he kept scanning the surroundings for any sign of the next step of Aizen's plan unfold around him.

Perhaps it had already been set into motion. _Not perhaps, definitely…_ Urahara corrected himself. He was racking his own considerable intellect for answers, hints, crucial connections which would provide clues as to the final objectives that Aizen wanted completed. The kid, with his insane _reiatsu_ , obviously played a large part. For all his power, he seemed out of place; a mere happenstance. He looked around, disoriented and listless, like an assassin without a target.

He was like a ticking time bomb, really, ready to go off at the exact moment Aizen had set in his mind. As was usual with the man's schemes, they had a tendency to unfurl and accomplish their myriad, complex procedures before anyone else could even figure out what the hell was going on. Urahara also knew that the sword hanging on the boy's back was far more important than the boy himself. Yama- _jii_ , had been ogling it like Hirako Shinji's assessment of Matsumoto-san's generous, if slightly unrealistic… _endowments_ … if you will.

He sensed the old man at a distance behind them, following. _Better keep moving, then,_ he reasoned. _Yamamoto-soutaicho will catch up by the time I've properly gotten the kid comfortable._

A decision he would live to regret. Or maybe not.

* * *

Trunks was 'desynchronized', as was the kinda lame term for ' _completely out of one's frickin' mind_ ', coined by those wacky old assassin game developers. All the events that had transpired in the last few hours had been far too random, with no context whatsoever. _You can't write this stuff…_ The generally self-assured teen just felt helpless.

All he'd been doing since he'd arrived, it seemed, was fight. For his life. Not so much different from what he was doing back home, before coming to this Alice's Wonderland, but at least there he had a purpose to the fighting.

Here, it was a succession of random crackpots shoving swords in his face, crackpots too weak to do much anyway. There was no point to all this. They gave no explanation as to why he was being attacked, what they were doing in a modern city dressed like feudal retro-Japanese warriors, and as to what the _fuck_ was going on in general, he had no clue in that regard either.

 _Someone had better explain everything to me soon, or I'll go crazy._ They were heading towards his store, or something. The number of unanswered questions in Trunks' mind, along with the unease he had begun to feel after the bells guy had attained Nirvana-or-whatever had physically manifested itself into a raging headache which refused to go away.

He felt like a dandelion in a humongous hurricane, as he was simply pushed along, his thoughts or choices not mattering for shit.

Urahara had slowed down, and was descending. Trunks followed suit. They were standing in front of a rather small establishment. The words ' _URAHARA STORE'_ were on a sign over the main entrance. _No surprises there…_ The air seemed charged with a weird eerie energy, which Trunks couldn't really sense all that well. It was sending gentle vibrations through the length of his Z-Sword. He ignored it.

"Follow me, if you will," Urahara motioned towards the entrance. The whole atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable. Trunks shifted his sword a little. The buzzing of his sword was constant, and was gradually getting irritating. _I'm forgetting something,_ Urahara mused. _Something important._

True thoughts. True indeed.

He slid open the door.

The vibrations in in the sword grew a little. Trunks felt it grow, buzzing now causing the blade to strain at the constraints provided by the sheath. Something inside was triggering the resonance. It kept growing stronger. As they moved even more inside, it grew into a visible shaking. Luckily, the sheath was leather, so it prevented any noise. Trunks' vision was a little teary with the constant oscillation on his back. He shook his head, willing himself back into focus.

Urahara led the way in. The moment he stepped inside, Trunks noticed the dull glint of the tip of a blade coming from behind the sliding door on the left.

"WATCH OUT!"

Even as the scream left his mouth, Trunks knew it was too late. The blade entered soundlessly, and continued upwards and right as if Urahara's body was just so much smoke. _Between the floating ribs, with such speed and precision; it's like a surgeon's scalpel._ Trunks felt a deep despair as he saw where the sword was going to pass through. _He's going for the kill._

It pierced the left ventricle, and Trunks knew that it was over. It continued further, through the heart, cutting the trachea as well, finally exiting Urahara's doomed body at the base of his neck, severing the jugular vein for good measure.

"NO!"

* * *

 _So many errors. So many mistakes. Oh, so many…_

Urahara Kisuke's mind, in its last second of existence, had gone into overdrive. His whole folly flashed before his eyes, taunting him with its enormity. He had grossly underestimated Aizen, as per usual, but this Trunks character had made him forget basic safety procedure. Of course he'd placed someone there. Of course that someone was there to kill him.

It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. But then, it always did. As his eyes moved over to the door enclosing the still-open _Senkaimon,_ his despair rose. That particular oversight meant the end of Soul Society, along with his own. It was a free entryway into _Seireitei_ , at least until Kurotsuchi Mayuri found out what had happened. _How many of his minions had he already sent in?_

He already knew the answer to that. _Enough._ He realized that his mind was trying to come up with a countermeasure, and forced it to drop its futile attempt. As the blackness grew, he knew he just had to see his face. The face of his killer.

In a painstakingly slow head turn, filled with spurts of blood from his severed neck veins, and pure agony from the chest wounds, he craned his neck. He strained his eyes to the left, trying to get a glimpse. Out of the corner of his left eye, bloodshot and dulled by his nearly drained life force, he saw what appeared to be a Goth tear stain, painted or tattooed in green under a similarly dull emerald iris, on a soulless white cheek.

His vision blurred, darkening and tunnelling. He had had no time to set up any fakes, clones, or inflatable _gigais_ this time. There was going to be no miraculous comeback from this one. He wasn't going to see the awe in his enemy's eyes as he seemingly resurrected himself.

This, for Urahara Kisuke, was it.

 _Such a great pity…_

* * *

Trunks saw the man's body give one last, weak sputter of blood from the neck wound, and then fall limp, hanging on the sword like some sadistic, cannibal barbecue skewer. His eyes widened in shock, pupils dilating as far as they could.

Flashes of memories rushed through his troubled mind.

" _I'll count to ten. Run away, you foolish, pitiful creatures!"_

" _Let's have a contest, shall we?"_

" _One…Two…Three…"_

" _Ten."_

 _SHIT!_ He dismissed all his memories, clearing his head. Now was not the time, what with a killer on the loose. His three-foot long blade was already in his hand. The vibrations were stronger, more insistent now. He gripped the hilt until his knuckles went white, and pressed down on the resulting pain.

The enemy's blade receded, playing the gory scene in reverse. First leaving the neck, then sliding soundlessly through his corpse, before finally exiting the torso on the left. It was like someone had finally flipped the death switch to _on_. Urahara collapsed onto his own blood, the _tatami_ matting now irrecoverable.

Trunks paused for a beat, readied himself, and slowly stepped over the body into the store. Genuine fear marked his usually calm countenance. _No matter how strong, the warrior must fear the assassin. For he strikes without warning, when it is least expected, from a place appearing completely innocent to every eye. One does not sense his arrival; nor his presence._

Gohan's teachings, often met with a disdainful glance from the purple haired half-Saiyan and a moan of "No more talking!" were all coming back to him now.

 _One never even feels the killing blade of the master assassin, not until it has already fulfilled its intended purpose. His exit from the great scene of the crime can be staged to appear unreal, miraculous, even._

He took in the contours of the room, searching all four walls and their intersections for hiding spots. Creating a small ball of Ki floating above his palm, he tried to make a lantern, but it only seemed to throw the recesses into further shadow. He let it disappear.

He could hear his own heartbeat, his breathing, and… _nothing else._ It was eerily silent, like a catacomb, or a cemetery. To his mind, it was one painfully slow search, although scouring the entire shop front room took three minutes in total.

He steeled himself, wiping fresh beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead in the seconds after he'd just wiped off the previous ones. The situation had just gotten real. Motives, backgrounds or circumstances didn't matter anymore. One death changed everything. There was a killer around, and everything was relegated to the deepest corners of his mind.

He reached the sliding door. Something was definitely wrong. The vibrations in his sword seemed to grow a little. It was getting hard to keep his grip constant. He simply grabbed the hilt harder, gritting his teeth. He used his free hand to slide back the frame. The rice paper made a slight swishing sound as it slid open.

One look at the interior of the room, and Trunks knew he'd found the guy.

A droplet of blood was hanging off the pointed tip of his sword. _Another weirdo. Why do they ALL have fucking SWORDS? Is there some gun shortage? Or have I gone too far into the past?_ Trunks first observed the weapon of choice, as was his habit. Then, his eyes travelled to the hand holding the sword, then the rest of the arm.

He was dressed in the same stiff white cloth Grimmjow had been wearing. Trunks' eyes moved past the shoulder, and widened when they saw the hole in the chest. _This guy seems exactly like Grimmjow-san…_

As his eyes moved up to the face, he saw the fake green tears painted or tattooed on his face. _Jeez, it's enough that you're an assassin, but a Goth one? Now I definitely don't like you._ He noticed the white mask-like thing on the left side of his head. It seemed a natural part of his visage, strikingly similar to Grimm's Jow.

( _Sorry. A little Hollow humour to lighten up the scene_ )

He made eye contact, and reeled inside. It was like a tsunami of killing intent just poured out of the man's stare. Besides that, there was a lot of just _nothing._ It was like the thing was somehow soulless. This wasn't some wannabe performing Goth cosplay. He was dead serious about his look. Somehow the tear stains suited him now.

Trunks gulped. It was like the sword at his side had travelled instantaneously, and was at his throat. The drop of blood detached itself from the blade, falling onto Trunks' exposed neck. Although it wasn't really moving, Trunks was already imagining it passing through. Sliding in, severing artery and bone alike, killing without any emotion…

 _Oh, fuck no._ Trunks started. The guy hadn't even moved. The blood was soaking through the matting on the floor. He hated these mind games. _Let's put an end to this._ He charged. It was not much of a charge; the guy was practically two steps away. Heaving his sword, he readied a top-down, two handed strike. It would be impossible to be accurate with one hand, given the vibration.

It was perfectly aimed. However, the vibrations chose the perfectly wrong moment to intensify. The Z-Sword slipped out Trunks' sweaty, fatigued and slippery hands. Moving in the same projectile arc, it flew towards the Goth guy's head, like a javelin. Casually, he moved his head to the left, and let the sword pass him, the very face of cockiness.

 _Shit._ The sword carried on, and was about to drive itself up to the hilt in the white wall in the background. _Wait. A white wall? In a Japanese-style dwelling?_ Trunks realized to his horror that it wasn't a wall. He heard the hum of power in the background. It hadn't been the sword's vibration that was making that sound. It was some gateway. Its edges resonated, and were the source of the humming.

As his sword was swallowed by the whiteness within those edges, he realized the size of the spider web he had been caught in. The hilt entered, and the Z-Sword was gone. The hum increased in volume to an incessant drone. Something big was going to happen, and it was not going to be good. Trunks suddenly remembered the Goth dude. He looked around, and saw him walking into the same dimensional rip that Aizen-san had used.

 _Aizen-san. So this was all your idea._ He looked back into the white gateway, and saw the beginnings of a huge explosion leaving the surface, heading right towards him.

 _Fuck._

A humongous force seemed to pick him up like a ragdoll, and threw him backwards and out. He was propelled out of the store in the blink of an eye. He bounced on the ground a couple of times, and crashed into a wall on the other side of the enclosure surrounding the store. That kind of impact was enough to sever the fragile crisscross of Ki holding his wounds together. As his blood came out, in small drops at first, followed by larger and larger spurts, he marvelled at the planning of all this.

Aizen had been deceiving him all along. Grimmjow and the other Goth dude probably both worked for that bastard. He had killed Urahara with his sword to force Trunks to draw his. If he hadn't, he might just as well have sprinted and punched the dude in the face. No, even Urahara's murder had an ulterior motive. _Oh, he's good... A mastermind, even._ Trunks' intellect was all admiration for the sequence of events it had just understood. It was now just a matter of making sure he raped Aizen's ass so hard that he couldn't even think about doing this again.

He had time for one last thought before he succumbed to the darkness engulfing him.

 _I'll get back at you, Aizen. Count on it._

 _Count...On..._

* * *

 _This simply cannot be happening._

Everything had been a set-up from the very beginning. Aizen had planned this to perfection, laying the final touches to his masterpiece in admirable style. He'd converted a one-in-a-trillion phenomenon into a situation that threw the scales heavily in his favour. Actually, it would be fair to say that the entire set of scales had gone over and sat down in Hueco Mundo.

It was extremely fast, considering the fact that Aizen had been quite the perfect squad Captain until just a month ago. His betrayal, followed by Kaname Tousen's and Ichimaru Gin's had already left them playing ten men on a thirteen-a-side field. Add in the heavy losses this Code 1 had inflicted, with Byakuya, Kenpachi, Hitsugaya, Abarai and Ikkaku down for the count, five more Captain-class _shinigami_ were gone. And now, he himself was stuck in the real world, with a battered Code 1 hanging on to his life by a thread.

So, an attack on Soul Society now would be disastrous. Juushiro wasn't in the best of health, Shunsui was a lazy little whippersnapper who wouldn't even lift a finger unless necessary, Unohana had laid down her sword in lieu of becoming a healer, and Soi Fon and Komamura couldn't handle Aizen by themselves.

This was a tactical disadvantage at every front. Aizen had outplayed them completely. And even this scenario was discounting the catastrophe that had also occurred. Urahara's death, the closing of the _Senkaimon_ didn't even compare to _this._

 _Kai_ had re-entered _Seireitei._ It was the one thing he was told to never allow to happen. He had sworn his life on preventing this exact thing from happening. Well, he was alive, and it had happened. He had no time to dwell upon the repentance for his mistake. He had to get back, and, if he had to have any chances of doing that, Code 1 had to be brought back to his senses.

He walked up the the choking and coughing child, and roughly pulled him up to his feet. Yamamoto held no anger towards him; it was simply all Aizen's doing. That made it much easier to try and convince him to defect to their side. The kid was barely breathing, which was impressive, considering his injuries. It was a miracle he hadn't died yet. The _reiatsu_ seal on his cut up heart muscle had weakened, and blood had started oozing out again.

"Answer me. Did Aizen put you up to this?" he said, as he shook the boy, almost dislocating his shoulder. He needed him conscious, and fast. _Maybe a slight branding may help this child stop being wilful._ As he was about to draw his _Ryuujin Jakka,_ the kid awoke. His eyelids fluttered, and he flitted in and out of consciousness. _"A...Ai-zen..."_ he choked out, _"I'll k-k-kill you..."_ before his head lolled on his neck. Yamamoto almost dropped his unconscious enemy. _You want to...kill Aizen? Is this another of his confusing mind games, or is he fighting the hypnosis?_

There wasn't any time to test either hypothesis. Yamamoto was out of alternatives. Despite his exterior calm, a rising panic was building inside the old _soutaicho's_ head. There was almost no hope, and even his half-crazed, haphazardly thrown together plan depended on this child being exceptionally useful. The venerable man suddenly felt the weight of the long years press down upon him.

 _Death is as light as a feather, duty as heavy as a mountain._ An old saying from a tome he had read ages ago came to mind. He decided that he wasn't going to stand there, achieving nothing. Hefting the boy onto his shoulder, he began moving, searching for someone. _Something._

 _Maybe I was mistaken. This situation may have been improved had those... those haughty, self-centered imbeciles had been present._

He trudged on, through all sorts of debris. Glancing at the ground, he saw a bottle of pills with a rabbit-shaped dispenser. His face took on a shade of green. _I thought Chappy was obsolete by now. That darned rabbit never fails to scare me._

As he walked on, the boy gave a small moan. He was definitely in a lot of pain. Yamamoto grimaced, and continued. He deserved everything that had happened to him and more. Whether he did it willingly or not, it did not matter. He was responsible for the state of deep despair that Soul Society was in. Suddenly, he saw a small dark flash in the direction he was heading.

 _Yes. The Shihouin princess. I had forgotten about her._

She seemed to have someone accompanying her. Three someones, actually. He recognized the sleek, feline shape Yoruichi preferred to be in when she visited the real world, and the famiiar outline of someone else's head; someone he had not seen in a long time. He dropped the boy like a sack of potatoes, and waited for them to arrive. _What is he even doing here? This is not about his son, or anyone related to him, for that matter. But, we are going to need every able person we can afford._

The four landed in front of the old man, all in lock step. The orange-haired girl gave a gasp when she saw the boy's limp form. Heading over she motioned with her hand, the twin combination from her _Shun Shun Rikka_ already descending over the boy's body. "I reject!" she completed the incantation. The boy's injured frame slowly began reversing the events that had happened to it in the last few hours.

"I had never expected to see you here," said the man _Yamamoto_ had least expected to see.

"The feeling is mutual, Shiba Isshin..." he replied.

"Actually, it's Kurosaki Isshin now." Yamamoto's eyes widened, ever so slightly.

"I know. You took on your beloved late wife's name. My condolences." Yamamoto shifted his gaze to Yoruichi. It turned slightly guilty. "I am sorry for your loss as well, Shihouin Yoruichi..."

Yoruichi was confused. "What do you mean, Yama-ji-jii?"

The old man hung his head. Dire news was never an easy thing to deliver. And despite their superficial differences, the Shihouin princess did have a special affection towards the man who had just passed. "I was too late to arrive. I am extremely sorry." Yoruichi's confusion turned to disbelief, as her mind connected the dots. She stared dumbly at the ashamed geezer. With a start, she shook her head. She was about to sprint into the broken chaos of the Urahara store, when a strong hand grasped her leg.

She looked down, struggling to free herself from the grip. Trunks had regained consciousness. "There's nothing there to see. Please, don't go there." His face was sad, and his dull blue eyes said it all. Yoruichi froze. She spent a long, long while just gazing into Trunks' loss-ridden eyes. With an effort, she pulled away, and sprinted into the remains of the store anyway.

* * *

Trunks got up. His healing was complete. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't conceal a deep blush when he awkwardly thanked Orihime-san. He then turned to the matter at hand. The old man seemed on the edge of his patience and sanity, and his eyes demanded an explanation. Trunks took a deep breath, and started his crazy, out-of-whack fairy tale.

A full three minuted later, Yamamoto was nodding, as Trunks recounted current details as he filled in Kurosaki-san, Sado-kun, and Orihime-san. It was clear that the old man didn't completely buy his backstory, but he believed the Aizen tricking him part. Trunks could sense a deep hostility emanate from the man's every pore. He despised Aizen too, and that made him a temporary ally.

Trunks finished with the explosion. He'd left out the slightly macabre details about Urahara's death. He looked over to the old man. It was his turn to sort out the jumbled mess in his head, to fill in the missing details that would make this headache go away. The old man obliged. After another ten minutes, the headache hadn't subsided, but he got it. _Shinigami, as in actual gods of death? Hmm. This black-clothed guy doesn't seem like much of a god to me. Now, Orihime-san, that's what a deity should look like._

 _Get your teenage hormones under control!_ He now had a romantic side as well. _How complex is the polygon that is my personality going to get, I wonder..._ "So, if I understand correctly, if this _Senkaimon_ thingy doesn't get fixed, and we don't go beat up Aizen-s..." he gulped after seeing the old man's gaze. Yamamoto definitely didn't want him using the honorific. "Aizen's guys," he continued, "The whole world will cease to exist, including this Soul Society and Earth?"

"Affirmative." The geezer was all formal and stiff-backed now, like he had a rod up his ass. "What about the cat?" Trunks ventured.

"We allow her to have her time to bereave. She will do what is necessary for the benefit of _Seireitei_ when she is mentally prepared." The rod just went deeper inside. "Now, are we going to receive your services, or not?" A dangerous glint in his eyes seemed to suggest that that question had only one correct answer. He nodded in assent.

"Then I suggest we go over to the damaged equipment and try your hand at repairing some complicated technology." Isshin was back to his calm state; Urahara's death had shaken him up as well. He was over it, or hiding his sorrow for another day; his face was all business. Even Orihime-san had wiped away her tears, bravely facing the future. Trunks nearly went and gave her hug. All he wanted to do was stop that _angel_ from crying.

 _All right, I'm gonna do this for your sake, Orihime-san._

* * *

"Well, well, well... What do we have here?"

Kurotsuchi Mayuri was not amused. And neither was Kuchiki Byakuya's pink haired gay counterpart.

They both simply stared at each other for the better part of five minutes. Suddenly, Szayelaporro Granz let out some emotion. He winked, pretended to blow a kiss towards the Twelfth Squad Captain.

Mayuri's head exploded in that single moment.

 _WHAT. THE. HOLY. FUCK._

"It seems that you're the first opponent Soul Society has cared to offer me," Szayelaporro definitely wasn't here to waste time. "My, how lucky. I get to face a Captain already? You guys are taking this seriously, aren't you?" There was really no need to say the obvious, and in such detail. Kurotsuchi rolled his eyes, tired of always being disappointed in his opponents. _When will someone arise who can actually give me some competition? Hmph._

 _Why did I have to choose this time to go out and pee? Why now?_

His incomplete research lay on the table in the Research and Development HQ. And Pinky was blocking the only entrance.

"I guess you're lucky," Mayuri said in his best no-fucks-given voice. "You get one minute to try whatever faltering excuse for an attack you've got, and then I pick you up, place you to the side, and enter my building."

"Trash talk? Really?" His opponent's tongue came out, and ran itself over his lips, very slowly. He worked on them for a whole thirty seconds, until they were wet and shiny and homosexual and whatever. He took out his sword, and smiled.

"Octava Espada, Szayelaporro Granz, at your service..."

Kurotsuchi simply looked confused.

"Dafuq?"

Another ten seconds of inactivity followed as the pink haired Arrancar facepalmed. He raised his blade, aiming it at Mayuri's face. A large pink _(Sheesh. Pink again?)_ Cero appeared on the tip. As it fed off of the concentrated _reiatsu_ present inside, it grew, sparking off some bolts of charged particles.

"You look like a researcher," Szayelaporro had less than ten seconds left now. He decided to use nine and a half for some sweg talk. Pausing for effect, he launched the Cero at the last possible moment.

"Well, study THIS!"

* * *

 **That's as far as WhoIsThisGuy could carry this story.**

 **I feel this needs a conclusion. An ending as hilarious as the rest of the story.**

 **Let me see if I can keep this going.**


End file.
